The first story that caught my attention at Justina Luther’s blog. Deliciously creepy, with a few vague hints of bigger things. Justina seems to be slowly, carefully building a mythos around this “Architect”, and I, for one, am intrigued.
Closing my eyes, I feel the sweat practically dripping from my palms as I cling to the rope in the heat of the sun.
“You’re doing fine, honey.” My husband, Zander, says.
“Fine my butt!” My legs shake as pebbles release from the cliff side and vanish. “I don’t want to do this!” As the breeze picks up and chills the droplets on my arms a hawk screams above me. “That bird knows I’m going to die, it’s just waiting for it.”
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