Horror

Ripe for The Picking

Short story

Photo by Ian Stauffer on Unsplash

Oliver stood at the edge of the world, the cold wind pulled and tugged at his hair and he wrapped his coat tighter around himself, as if the thin material would be a barrier to the biting chill that Mother Nature gloried at here. He stared down at the dark, stormy water; his toes instinctively curled in his shoes, as if trying to grip the edge of the cliff on which he…