The hands that ghost over me are intimately familiar. The warmth of her breath on my neck, her scent in my nostrils, the shape of her body against me. Her lips on my skin, and the voice that makes me shiver, though I can never make out her words. All of it so well known […]
Read MoreThe Girl and the Ghost
This was originally posted as part of a blog tour, but I’ve always really liked it. I’ve been sitting here since sundown, twitching at every snapped twig and creaking limb. I hate the dark. I hate these woods even more, but that’s the point. Ginny Thomas couldn’t think of anything worse to do to me. […]
Read More
