saturdaystorytellers

    Tendrils of smoke from the camp’s fire snaked upwards through the light drizzle, invisible and hidden by the starless sky’s blackness.  The flames fought the moisture back, undeterred, sizzling coals and keeping dry the ring of rocks surrounding.  Somewhere beyond the light were things which watched, things that thought, things that were hungry.    The keeper of the fire came up to it, his jacket tattered and failing at keeping out the misty rain.  In the flickering dark light of the flames his worn green camo coat and pants appeared more like moss, as if he was a wood born entity, maybe rock.  There had been creatures like