
A quick cheer keeps writers writing. Add a note or send a tip if you really want to make their day.
by info
She was standing on the gravel shoulder, caught in the beam of the headlights. No jacket. No shoes. Her clothes torn in a way that had nothing to do with fashion — broken — dirty — terrified. She was staring at the car the way people stare when they've been waiting for something — anything — for a very long time. The window rolled down. "You okay?" He stole it from them. The Nursery Rhyme was never meant to be anything but beautiful. He will use it — he will make it his own and they will feel every single word that comes from his lips. He will make sure they feel it — to their core. He smiled. This is going to be fun!
Books are free to read — while you read you'll see closable ads.