T. Rose : Writing

Cold Air.

Cold Air.

A Story by T. Rose


The cold air hit me like a truck. I felt tears in my eyes as I braced myself against the December breeze. It was the kind of cold that numbed you on t..
Running.

Running.

A Story by T. Rose


There were tears in the boy’s eyes. His vision blurred, his face red from the anger and the hurt building in his chest, and the merciless stri..
The Bear.

The Bear.

A Story by T. Rose


The moon was poised high on that night. The breeze was cold enough to grasp onto your bones and hold them in place, keeping you still until you went..