Short Story: Three Empty Shells

Please Read: Three Empty Shells

Started this story yesterday:

The old man sat cross-legged on his couch, three rising plums of incense mixing their smoke in the air. The white threads weaved about each other, braiding together as they climbed to the temple’s ceiling. The boy came before the master, and kneeling down, said nothing.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.