Posted in Writing

Prompt Challenge: Thwart


On a cold, wet April morning the sun began to rise above the horizon & pierced the bleakness of the night. Only a portion of the sky held onto the pitch of the abyssal ceiling.  The blinding light was quick to thwart the remnants of the evening, heralding the arrival of a new dawn of hope and wonderful beginnings.


via Daily Prompt: Thwart



I'm a thirty something queer writer fond of poetry, fantasy, & the strangely bizarre world that we live in.