The Hoopoe revenge

Tonight, then, would be the night. The Moon set against her sect, invisible tonight. Tonight would be the night. The sack bulged. Above, Saint Lorenzo cried his tears, pointing his invisible way towards the Holy Grail. That trail would have to wait for another night. I set out. The road was gritty, illuminated by the base lights of a base town. The gravel on the tarmac slipped underneath me; my sack bulged and I slipped. Continue reading The Hoopoe revenge