bsharp
socials ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★
tumblr
pixilart
lospec
Sounds of distant bird-calls punctuate the quiet rustling of the fallen November flora.
The grey-orange skies stare down at your meek personhood from the heavens.
You take a deep breath and set your eyes on the cabin. You start walking.
2024/07/11
The Arborist
A short story I wrote.