I miss words. Mostly writing them. Unfortunately, writing has always felt more like a plague upon my soul, a possession yearning for exorcism. Photography just hurts less. Today, feels off. So, I started skimming through an untended to novella I drafted in 2007. Maybe one day I’ll edit and polish it, but tonight, I found the words I needed.

“Forgotten Eden is marked like Cain,” Ruth said, “Almost no man will deal with it, but they can’t help but be drawn to a cursed thing. You always wonder about its story, about a mark that can’t be hidden. And there’s a lot of cursed souls in a place like this. All a bunch of Cains tellin’ their story.”




This entry was published on January 27, 2011 at 5:27 am and is filed under Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

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