The Summer of the Witch

Whoa! Dear Basia, intense stuff. : )

BJ Wolf

Light streamed into the dankness, fingering its way across the uneven floor and up the blood spattered walls to the ceiling. There was more to this small, cramped space than the eye could see; something beyond claustrophobic, something beyond, far beyond the depths of despair and terror embedded in the walls. It was woven into the air, into the filth and the dust particles that danced before her eyes; its scent lingered in the dried urine, mold and blood; its essence floated in the air, trapped in the jagged rays of light, pointing, pointing, pointing, look at me, Karen, look at me.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

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