Inner musings of a Wayward Writer
He wasn’t meant to be there. And he knew it. The fence was made of brick put together so smoothly that it was impossible to climb. It rose several metres into the air and encircled the entire property. While there were several signs posted around the perimeter warning against trespassing, he hadn’t found a single …
Deep beneath a land that no-one dares to cross, in a country few have heard of, on a continent many have never seen, is a series of caves no human has ever committed to a map. They run for many miles below a barren stretch of desert. This hollow maze twists and turns and doubles …
Writing on Tangents