The barrel of the gun brought Neil out of his reverie; cold and weighty and tasting of metal, like sucking on an oiled penny. The inexorable moment to which he had been driven faded, no more than fairy magic in the face of cold iron. The glamour of death fell from him as he sat in his father's chair, his father's gun resting on his teeth, bare to ( Read more... )

♕ SIX WORD STORIES
♔ POSTED
→ Gather ye rosebuds while ye may...
→ ...How does one get into acting?
→ Is April really the cruelest month?

♔ REPLIED
← If ever I believed in karma...
← A cold and a broken hallelujah
← Who's gonna get drunk this weekend?
← Room never seemed this... big, before.
← Never imagined it'd be like this..
← Sex can be ( Read more... )