The moon is high as I walk along this forgotten path.
Trees line the borders and the cold nips at my bare arms, the wind whipping my flesh.
My footsteps echo into the night, as each stride brings me closer.
At last I arrive.
To the warmth of my home.
YOU ARE READING
Mini sagas
Short StoryHere are some really short stories (or sagas), all told in 50 words. No more, no less. I'm challenging myself to one day write 50 of these 50 word stories! Wish me luck!
