He took a long look in the mirror, got the next stroke on. It was perfect. Slowly the self portrait was taking form. It looked more alive than anything he’d ever painted before, anything he’d ever seen. Every new stroke made it better, every next step made it more real.
He studied every little detail in the mirror, every little colour, every last wrinkle, every shadow. It looked real. More than real. More real than…
Gunshots could be heard from far away. The hunters were coming. Humans. The most dangerous beasts of them all. The … More
No one else knew. No one else could ever know. His secret. His past. Only he knew. From the darkness … More
Marelli sat in his dressing room. How many nights had he been sitting here getting ready to go out on … More
The old tree was standing on a hill. The wind went through it’s leaves, the birds jumped around on its … More
He was hanging from the tap he had been born out of. Hanging. Hanging. All he ever did was hanging. … More