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Literature by ravenwritingclaw

Literature by FadingGrin


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Submitted on
August 23, 2013
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The storm throws you to my door, drenched and bloodied, god-light dimmed. The crest of the hill is underwater. You have no boots.

         Morning dawns cold, clear, a watery gold. You are gone.
Unfinished, as these things often are.

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Thank you! :rose:
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:iconconcora:
Concora Featured By Owner Jan 22, 2014   Writer
That's very kind of you - thank you! :tighthug:
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:iconsavaliste:
Savaliste Featured By Owner Jan 22, 2014
Np :)
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:iconmrwootton:
MrWootton Featured By Owner Nov 19, 2013  Professional Writer
Yes.
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:iconconcora:
Concora Featured By Owner Jan 22, 2014   Writer
:)
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:iconfernknits:
fernknits Featured By Owner Sep 30, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist
The first line moves and fascinates me.  I would like to know more about what happens.  Consider expanding this, maybe?  
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:iconconcora:
Concora Featured By Owner Jan 22, 2014   Writer
I'm glad you like it. I'll certainly consider. :) 
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:iconflummo:
flummo Featured By Owner Sep 20, 2013  Student Writer
There's just something about this and I really really like the title.
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:iconconcora:
Concora Featured By Owner Jan 22, 2014   Writer
:heart:
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:iconweatherstained:
weatherstained Featured By Owner Sep 4, 2013  Student Digital Artist
As is, this piece is already very strong. 
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