Welcome to my words
Recent Stories
Fiction: April’s End
He can’t breathe in for a 10-count, the air shudders out of him at four. He tries again. It was the gas dream, though the electric horror of it has long since faded. Now it just grinds him down in between waking hours.
Fiction: New House
Sam rode a whole day and night to come back and now she can’t even make herself knock on the whitewashed door in front of her. Her hands are covered in dust and burned from the sun and they look so wrong against the clean paint. It’s bright even in the pale early morning light.…
Follow My Blog
Get new content delivered directly to your inbox.
Words of C. Hunsaker 