dark-reads

We are all just illusions of what we want the world to believe about us, no one even begins to assume what lurks below my surface, not even my best friends. ~Callum~

She tied him a fly, using a pattern she__ designed, one that had given her untold luck with those silvery fish, those fighting steelhead. She was anxious for his return. __oes it have a name?_ he said, when she gave it to him. __he Predator._ She smiled. A little embarrassed. His eyes turned dark, and her heart beat faster. His voice dipped low. __t__ a fine name._ He regarded her for several heavy, silent beats. She felt an atavistic pull, the hairs on her arms rising toward him, as if in electrical attraction. He leaned closer and her mouth turned dry. And he told her about the wild blueberries. Down by the bend in the river. She took the lure. She went in search of the berries. She never came home.