It’s a well-known cliché to say that before you die your life flashes before your eyes. Cliché or not, as the wind tousles my hair in great, whipping blasts behind my head and grey, craggy rocks rush forwards

It began as a sapling; a tiny leafed shoot poking its way through the rich and fertile earth. The sun nourished it, and it grew, rising up to meet that which gives it life. It twists and wriggles contently,

Hey there, members of the Steemit community (I've heard Steemians is the term used here). I only joined Steemit a few days ago, having stumbled across it somehow a couple of weeks ago (I can't actually

The blanket of night masks our approach into the city, aiding and abetting our war crimes. The bomber slips through the air, almost silent but for a low whine – the harbinger of death. I look down at the

This is my entry for the Art Prompt Writing Contest #8, kindly hosted by @gmuxx. The man watched from the shadows. It had been a while since he had done anything besides watching. He passed each second