Amy Glamos–Untitled


The rain had turned to ice somewhere between his house and the path, slicing at his raw hands and pinging against the dark glass of the windows behind him.  He clutched his coat tighter, desperate to hold onto the residual heat of her.  The wound on his shoulder trickled down his back beneath the layers, a viscid reminder of exactly what he was chasing after.  Somewhere through the swaying trees, an eerie howl pierced the silence of the storm.  She is near, he thought.

His steps quickened on the icy path as he slid his freezing hands into his pockets.  His stiff fingers closed around the cold metal of a gun.  Continue reading

Advertisements