Storygram #174
The path we somehow stumbled onto turns into a tunnel formed by intertwined trees and vines, the sun poking at whatever holes it can find. It’s unsettling. There seems to be a strange darkness here that I can’t articulate, only feel.
Storygram #173
He wasn’t allowed to question anything he had growing up. His parents never worked, but they all lived together in a mansion, had abundant food, and anything they wanted would eventually materialize. When he was older and realized how the world operates, they would scold him for asking.
Storygram #172
Venice was beautiful during the day, but at night some areas sent his skin crawling. He navigated his boat through a narrow passageway, searching for the orange building with an open garage. Supposedly, she would be waiting for him in a room above it.
Storygram #171
Forks wielded by the children scraped the plates in a scarfing frenzy. They didn’t know the reason for all the food. They simply accepted it, knowing nothing of what was coming.
Storygram #170
In a panic, she started to run. She ran through hallways that wound about and only led back into themselves. Rooms led to bigger rooms with more hallways, an endless house. All she wanted was to get out.
Storygram #169
After Sharliam had wandered through the desert for several days without water, he collapsed into the sand. Every part of him wanted to sleep. He was ready to give up and walk into the welcoming arms of death.