Fear has always been the scent that I enjoyed most. It’s complex, like a well-aged red wine. Fear is in the blood; a syrup for the senses. When the blood is stirred, the fear rises up in a scent of mercurial, crimson decadence. It is such sweetness. When left to settle, the rouge settles back… Continue reading #writingdaily | feast
Fear was always the prelude to the dark. That conflict raging inside all of us waiting for each daily choice which would, finally, give us no way out of its festering grasp. Or, so it would have us believe. Some of us use the fear and the dark whispers as our motivation—“a means to an… Continue reading #writingdaily | Angeline
Angel Breath 