Mist floats through the forest while flashlights bob in the distance, tiny alien craft, jiggling stars, until they extinguish, not at camp.
Shelter… 90 more words
B.H. Fairchild wrote this poem called “Rave On”. It was about some teenage boys who fixed up these junky cars and sped them down the road and off the side, intentionally flipping the vehicles at maximum speed just to see if they’d come out alive. 628 more words