Fierro was panting. His flock was going about, as they do every year, rising over clouds and mountains and letting the wind carry their petite figures to their destination. 793 more words
Tags » Moonlight
68 more words
Midnight islands of thought where a screaming soul chases back the dark while furious flashbacks stitch rage against such brooding recollections. The aspect of a cold breeze shivering through the trees of glass resonating notes of clarity and clearness within the moonlight as apparitions of granite flicker blackly.