…Dealing with her at times caused his head to ache, his temples to throb. Days such as today, she was like handling loose, live wire. “You don’t mean that,” he said. “You really don’t mean that.”

She turned her head to him, her gaze falling on him cold and hard. “Do I?” She cleared her throat and returned to her slumped, foot-propped mountain-staring position. “Maybe you should just go.”

“Yeah,” Mick agreed. “You’re right. Coming here has done nothing but waste my time.”…

disclaimer–poetry and fiction snippet content are my own original content. unauthorized reproduction of any post content, without prior written permission, is in direct violation of applicable copyright laws.


Author: Mari Adkins

Appalachian gothic fiction writer - my works reflect a love of literature flavored by the darkness and magic residing in these ancient mountains. In my spare time, I'm a Simmer, I tumbl, I journal, but I always have a very strange sense of humor. I have lived away from the mountains and lived deep in the mountains. I currently live in Central Kentucky with my lifepartner and his cat. The mountains, their culture, their superstitions, their particular magics, will always be in my blood.