PredatoryGoat
He attempted to back up, though the stone wall behind his back stopped him from retreating further. His eyes widened as he watched the looming figure get closer, able to do nothing but clutch at his bleeding wounds and stare in terror.
He was well known, but not in the sense that one might think. He stole things, yes, but he never allowed anyone to see his face. No one knew his appearance or his name, but they knew the fear that accompanied walking home alone at night or managing the night shift at a shop.
It was chilly outside this morning. The woman gazed upwards at the sky, which was a mix of blues, yellows, and violets, all swirling and mixing together like paint on a pallet. Sarah was bundled in a large, heavy coat, a scarf wrapped around her neck. She pulled it down, breathing out wispy white into the cold air before heading onward down the street, determined to get to the tram on time.
It was still dark outside. He stood from the bed, his wife awakening and clutching at his sleeve, pleading for him to come back to bed. He shook his head silently, writing something down on a sheet of paper before dressing himself and closing the front door, saddling up his horse and riding through the slowly-lightening dawn.
writing since 2016 · 5 entries · 3 days shown up
each square is a day—lit means aimbonito showed up.
2longest streak
3days written
0.5entries / week
the words aimbonito reaches for
outsidechillymorninggazedupwardsskymixbluesyellowsvioletsswirlingpaintpalletsarahbundledlarge