The Place

Please read slowly and allow yourself time to reflect

The Place

Still, unearthly quiet. Naked trees yearning and vulnerable, Desolate, dying ground, Mysterious mist slowly envelopes all. Gently moving river where the boat moves slow, delicate like a frightened child. A place wholly bereft. Still comes the boat through the clinging solitude, still the mist covring like a thin shroud. Haunting darkness. A place of lingering fear. Still the boat seeks the destination known only to shades in this place....

George Coombs

Reviews

[Chris]

It grows the "foreboding" well and with intent.

[George Coombs]

Thankyou Chris