Chris Caulfield
Bio
Stories (2/0)
The Locket
From outside the treehouse you could hear them weeping. For something built by a couple of nine year olds, the rickety old thing had held up as well as could be expected. The same could be said about the bond between the builders, Talulah and Yamil, who over the years had shared drinks and stories here countless times. Their secret place was one of the last few around, there really were not many surprises in the growing city of Limbo. Over the last decade there were fewer and fewer strange little paths in the woods, abandoned houses to be explored and trees to be climbed. As Talulah has said many times over, the only thing that made one neighbourhood look different from another were the names of streets. It was a dull place.
By Chris Caulfield3 years ago in Fiction
The Locket
From outside the treehouse you could hear them weeping. For something built by a couple of nine year olds, the rickety old thing had held up as well as could be expected. The same could be said about the bond between the builders, Talulah and Yamil, who over the years had shared drinks and stories here countless times. Their secret place was one of the last few around, there really were not many surprises in the growing city of Limbo. Over the last decade there were fewer and fewer strange little paths in the woods, abandoned houses to be explored and trees to be climbed. As Talulah has said many times over, the only thing that made one neighbourhood look different from another were the names of streets. It was a dull place.
By Chris Caulfield3 years ago in Fiction