There’s something dead upon the path. Something small he remarked. His two young sons they paused and took a fleeting indifferent look. So when they left I made my way to where Death had come that day. And saw the tiny extinguished life, wondering at its sacrifice. What disgraceful arbitrary sin had prompted such deadly whim? But like the glance of youth which laid upon Death's unhappy prey I knew the end the gods had sent was callous and indifferent.
Signs
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I can see the black shells of flies on my windowsill. I see the ugly water stains marring the blinds. The blown-out windows are streaked with milky tears blocking my …
Beautiful
good one