The collected writings of a Renegade Tourist

Month November 2019

Grandma Chosen One

Grandma Applebottom had just picked up her knitting when the door bell rang. Her grandchildren had just been visiting and she assumed one of them had forgotten something and come back. Knitting needles still in hand, she went to the answer the door. Outside was a tall slim man in a cloak the color of the night. ”Have you come to collect me?” she asked, a hint of trepidation in her voice...continue reading

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