creative writing
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The damp, cavernous corridor was filled with emptiness, its darkness beckoning any who came near it. A sweltering heat choked the air, adding a delirious feel to the voices calling from just out of reach. Isolde strode confidently through the dim hallway, her footsteps echoing down the empty hall. This place is a hellhole, she
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This is a story I wrote back in 2013 for a writing class. Aside from a few minor details, I’ve left the story unchanged. I take one last swig of the beer I’ve been nursing all night, and then exhaustedly pack my guitar back into its case. My dark hair falls in my face, and
Strange Storyteller 