Trey DiGioia
Joined June 2021
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Darkness. That’s what lay before us. The head of Goneril’s torch were the only light for miles, n’ Ma 'n I could only make out his twisted fingers as they gripped tightly around his wooden candle. Each of Goneril’s four fingers ended in a long pointed nail, black with the dirt that had caked on since his last bath.
By Trey DiGioia3 years ago in Futurism