The Little Red House
Her glasses are tossed into the pile. Belatedly, a small hand slips into hers, frigid and grimy; and she grips it. They are going together.
Her glasses are tossed into the pile. Belatedly, a small hand slips into hers, frigid and grimy; and she grips it. They are going together.
Oh no! This story doesn’t have a prequel. Want to fill in the blanks and write one?
Write a prequelOh no! This story doesn’t have a sequel. Want to fill in the blanks and write one?
Write a sequelSign in to comment.