RHYS SAGE | CREATIVES
I’ve strung these webs over a thousand times
running back and forth, round and round.
But the wind, the rain, the hands of children
tear them down – swindling, dwindling.
Autumn gossamer threads
forming in the mind
cobwebs in corners
but no spider can be found.
I just wanted the world to see,
this twine of me.
It’s times like this that I wonder why
my art is made only to die.
You see, where I come from, most of us spend our whole lives underground. We are born in the soil, we live in the soil, wrapped in...
This story contains horror themes, including violence and gore. My car is absorbed into trailing tendrils of fog, the windshield...
“I didn’t think you would come.” Samira’s heart trips over itself at the familiar voice and she whirls around. Theo is much taller now...
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