rosaliekempthorne
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My stories
Marcus
I stare. I know I shouldn’t be doing it, but I just can’t help myself. There is something so perfect and precious about him. Blue eyes like oceans...
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- 346 reads
Night Hag
The sun sets. I walk the half block from the bus to home. The sun paints the pavements orange, it flickers in the trees. I note the lengthening...
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- 5 comments
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- 1017 reads
Night Owls
The sun sets. I sit at my window and I watch it go down. The way blue becomes purple, and fire becomes wine, and there’s a line of molten golden that...
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- 323 reads
Longing
Birthed by the shadows, She, like lava, slips between them, A disturbance, A ripple, A distortion so small and basic and integral That perhaps it was...
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- 646 reads
The Man with Golden Eyes
I had a few preconceived ideas about some of the perks and perils of starting work as a stripper. But one of them was not to be followed home every...
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- 208 reads