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Sun Kissed Innsmouth
Part Sixty Seven
The old woman didn’t stop and grunt out some gruff or dismissive reply. The old woman didn’t even slow down. Her careful yet steady steps continued as she used her gnarled walking stick to choose a level path through the meadow.
Felecia walked through the doorway of the abandoned house and onto the lawn, the chicken that had been...
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Sun Kissed Innsmouth
Part Fifty Six
When Felecia didn’t stand up in the lantern light or speak up the old woman grunted, “I’m old but my ears are good, I know you’re there. Fine! If you’re just passing through, so be it, but know the place is haunted. You’ll get no rest there; lord knows I never did.”
The woman set the lantern back down...
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Where was the U.S. bishops public condemnation of Trump for ripping babies out of the arms of their mothers? Where was their condemnation or public rebuke of his adultery?
You want to get into politics you filthy pile of pederasts? Start paying taxes. Better yet stay in your lane and keep busy burying the ever increasing horrors of your pathetic international fraud ring.

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Sun Kissed Innsmouth
Part Fifty Five
The stooped figure set down its gnarled walking stick and fixed the mirrored lantern in a flat spot of earth nearby. The formless, flowing poncho the figure wore came off next, at first Felecia assumed it was the same color as mud, perhaps woven from old horse hair but no, the stiff garment once removed really was coated in...
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Sun Kissed Innsmouth
Part Fifty Four
The reek of mold and ancient dust, the creaking of uneven floorboards. The old ruined house was enough of a barrier from sound sleep. The unsettling sounds of the ocean waves lapping against crushed shells and smooth pebbles was even worse. The ocean made the sound of disquieting whispers that way. Felecia wondered if the ocean always made that...
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They say the eyes are the windows to the soul. These eyes are crooked and bloodshot, they observe everything and admire nothing. These hands however, out damn spot!

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