wolf

Six bullets left. I gripped the gun tightly in my right hand and settled in against the trunk of the tree. A cold wind blew across the clearing and into my face, it smelled of snow and ice. A storm was brewing, over the distant mountains. If I was lucky I would still be alive when it reached the tree I perched on. If I wasn’t lucky, well it doesn’t matter does it. I check the revolver again, six bullets gleamed silver in the faint light as the moon rose, bloated and yellow. The first howl echoed across the clearing.



Chimera Writing prompt: wolf

The House on Blackbird Road

In the house at the end of Blackbird road, with the peeling grey paint, that may once have been the blue of ocean waves. With dark wooden floors and damask velvet walls, ceilings dark and filled with a macabre carnival of spider webs. Dead chandeliers that drip dusty jewels, the stairs that creak as you climb up and up to nowhere at all. There is little black key, in a hidden door, in the peeling damask paper at the end of the hall. Phantoms whisper secrets and lies in the shadows, in the house at the end of Blackbird road.