The birds swoop low. For a moment they swirl with the leaves, all buffeted and helpless, before they sail off into the emptiness. Autumn never was my favourite time of year. Things just begin to die; feeble, burned out. I hate the ember-ash colours and the unwashed sky; I hate the smell of bonfires and the nip in the wind. I hate the beginning of the end.
A diverse collection of short stories covering gothic horror,
fantasy, romance and more.
The birds swoop low. For a moment they swirl with the leaves, all buffeted and helpless, before they sail off into the emptiness. Autumn never was my favourite time of year. Things just begin to die; feeble, burned out. I hate the ember-ash colours and the unwashed sky; I hate the smell of bonfires and the nip in the wind. I hate the beginning of the end.
A diverse collection of short stories covering gothic horror,
fantasy, romance and more.