Racing down the mountain side
A winding highway in the rain
More flight than pleasure ride
Surely I was insane
The light was getting dim
If only my brakes weren’t so worn
My plight looking grim
Would they find my body in the morn?
Photo by vxla
Detective Arnie Chalmers dropped his finished cigarette to the asphalt, ground it with his heel, and waited for his partner to catch up.
I wandered through the county fair
I watched the sun set and the moon rise
Dwaithelord — an honorific for the tribal leader of a coven of dwarven wraith soul stealers.
