Did you ever catch that piccolo?
The wind rustled the trees. The first few discoloured leaves of the season floated gently to the ground like lonesome flakes of autumn confetti. The branches were swaying slightly. A floating dance in...
View ArticleShe could be you
She was the picture of glamour. Her dress was red. The kind of red that just screamed at you. It screamed many things — sex, lust, blood, fame, money, power, it was all there. It fitted her perfectly...
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