It was too late.He was weary, He had nowhere to run. She was in the hall. She was something he didn’t know, he no longer recognised. How much love and devotion he’d given to her over the years. Now completely lost in the monster she’d become. She, no it, would be here soon, hungry for… Continue reading Him
Category: art
The Sensing
You can hear the growling through its labouring breath.You sit, panting and sweating.The remnants of your arm,Like fleshy wet ribbon. You can hear the scratching through the creaking floor.You sit, shaking and trembling.The persistence of your fear,Like sins never forgiven. You can see the breaking through the shattering door.You stand, hastening and quickening.The insistence of… Continue reading The Sensing
Mathew James Ford 