Comments about Vanessa Kingsley
The wind blows hard as the sky grows dark. The moon shines full; a lazy halo surronds it becuas eif the swirling mist.
Lights are out, streets are quiet. I am alone.
The world is silent. The darkness moves. Nothing at all is here.
The raven crows and dark clouds pass over the moon.
The body lays motionless and leaks blood.
It is crimson against the black concrete and swirls in a puddle.
The wind blows harder, your heart grows colder.
The concrete seems to fill you.