Tags » Somewhere

Old iron gate.

It’s left open to the high grass. The thick brush cast shadows where they are needed.


Caught in the grip.

Fascinated by the decay. The rot of the wood, the fading of the old rusty roof, the weathered bricks and the lush grip nature has on the frame.



Callie sat up, gasping. She looked around, but it was too dark to see anything clearly. From what she could make out, she was in a room with a door. 1,081 more words

Creative Writing