Dream Journal

I am in a house I do not recognize,

Night Owl

Orion drank in eventide’s crisp delights.

Pure exhibition.

~ tales from a mysterious, melancholy, and meaningful forest

~ three micro-tales, microfictions, flash fictions, short(er) stories

“The Lyogith lives on upon the dance floor of Mr. Dia’s.”

The last man opened his weary lids and light filtered to his latest reality.

In a way, the ghost was free.

The insides were burning, the outsides compelled to bear witness.

A new day…