By Angela Louise McGurk, 2017
Tears gleamed in red and gold,
Bright mirrors to the flame,
Dancing about its wick
As waxen, flesh became,
And melted into shrunken hollow,
Where tears will ne'er stain.
Where now, silent wanderer?
What fields are left to walk,
Seeking halls which thunder,
When the mute men talk?
Memory drifts in thickening fog,
Thought makes a final call,
Greed and hunger devour
'Till insatiable, they fall,
As fury's widow weeps
Againstfury's funeral pall.
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Bad Blood - Vampire Cohorts Book 4 #Wattys2015
VampireLeof was gone. I wanted to scream again at the thought. My Leof was dead, laid out in the shrine where I'd left him just before dawn. It hadn't taken an army to kill him, all it had taken was one wolf, one man whom he'd shown mercy to. Fenrir had do...
