Hourglass Tales | Fantasy Story by Sunny Jackson | Inkitt
All I know is that sometimes I find myself a few hours or minutes or days in the past, often with no idea why except that something in the near future is about to go wrong.
Stab here with index before you tuck into foul feast. Hour at which the blind see, when night unfurls her wing and goes out, silent as shaft of moonlight. Hour of the witches’ feeding; on primal pain, on corrupt love, on toothless cherub child. via …