Cold, Cold Night
The rain, like a million hunting dogs, ran before the cruel wind. The invisible master howled commands down the length of the dark, empty highway. Struggling, the man walked on having lost his car many miles ago. On he went, like the rain, driven by an invisible master nipping at the heels of his soul.
2 Comments
I like that one. I feel drenched, frigid, dark and alone.
Thanks. That’s what I get for writing fiction on the heals of writing a poem.