Dark stories, tales of whimsy and random brain droppings.

Cellar

My hands shook in the cold rain as I fumbled with the shovel handle as another flash of lightning illuminated the back deck’s leaf litter blanket. I gingerly took one step down, nervous about the open back of the staircase where the cat kept her hunting trophies, each one bigger than the last.

Photo by Kurayba


Discover more from On a Darkling Whim

Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.

Leave a Reply