I heard her climbing up to check on the source of the clatter, just as I had. And when I heard Marta enter the room and scream, half of me wanted to turn around and comfort her.
The other half of me wanted to keep locking gazes with the specter that was floating outside the attic window.
In the middle of the forest sat a stone hut, and always from this hut came the scent of amber. Within the hut there lived what the nearby villagers believed was an old god. A god so ancient that none remembered his name, what he was the god of, or even if he was a “he.”
The Amber God, some called him. Continue reading