The exception that proves the rule. A blog of short writings from Australia and England.
Thursday, 17 September 2015
Witches and wizards would whip and tear my tattered soul, and ghosts gave me grief from beneath their whitened shawls. I'd bite my lip and skip rapidly through the dark, to miss the eyeful tower of spiders and the rippling carpet shark. If life is worth living, then I'll live it in bed, I'd rather be here than out there in the darkness instead.