Freelance writer and creative writer. I love to read, write, hike, and explore nature.
The insane killer is approached by a cop He wants to apprehend the insane killer His hair is crazy, he lives in delusion He wants to take people and string them like dolls.
By T.F. Hall2 years ago in Horror
Blue oceans at ease Lapping against rocky shores My soul is at sea
By T.F. Hall2 years ago in Poets
I drifted through a Portal to a blue forest Snowy ground, blue air
On the mountain top You rule. No trees, no grasses Only blue lichen
It’s called feeling blue That sadness I embrace so Easily with you
I see wonderful, warm Inviting deep blue crystals In your happy eyes
My father was calm this morning. He suffers from dementia and the relaxed, friendly man I once knew became something alien, contained within a withered, yet recognizable vessel. Although his skin sags, his soft facial structure is still clear. Even with glazed eyes, he still has the same deep brown irises that always made me think of soil drenched in fresh rain. Those were his favorite days, the rainy ones.
By T.F. Hall2 years ago in Fiction
The door chimed as I walked into the gas station. The cashier that I always saw there, a frumpy woman with graying hair and a frown turned up the volume on the television as I entered. As if the chime that announced customers entering was a disturbance to her daytime television. As usual, she had the news on.
By T.F. Hall2 years ago in Futurism
A frosted summit Twisted trees of balsam fir Are like a green scarf.
The light from the candle was low, and the pale yellow wax had formed a thick ring around the iron candelabrum. Looking up, the young boy could the dragon’s purple, scaled face. His large, round eyes were dark green, yet they were bright and friendly.
The first bell rang and the moment I was waiting for arrived. Biology class was coming up, and being the eccentric animal lover that I was, my biology teacher, Mrs. Ruegger, was delighted to welcome my pet to her classroom for a day of behavioral science and animal study.
By T.F. Hall2 years ago in Families
It's the quiet of fall The poise of it all It's stale leaves in the air It's the local county fair It's flannels and sweaters
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