Ochre Idyls

Poems, Haiku/Tanka, Short Fictions

There's a stretch of highway, northwest of the city, that heads up into the mountains through dense old growth trees that block out most light. Night driving is impossibly dark. A neon motel sign along the route lights the dark like a Rod Serling memorial. It is not advised to stop.

  • Fiction
  • 51 words
  • < 1 min
  • July 04, 2025