Tombstone Horseman

“Hey Tomestone, the hangman knows you’re coming,” casually announced a teenaged spirit messenger wearing a white sundress with pink daisies. Her thick, brown, curly hair bounced on her shoulders. With the forest floor beneath her bare feet, she teetered back and forth from the boredom of being mostly ignored. She spoke to a woman chopping wood outside a circular twig hut with a fern covered roof, the dark green leaves draping over the edge. Tombstone wore black work pants and thick black leather…

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Get started with me as I write a backdrop of fantasy short stories where everything is real: ghosts, monsters, angels, demons, and God's not a dillweed.

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Bethany Jaine Bredeson

Bethany Jaine Bredeson

Get started with me as I write a backdrop of fantasy short stories where everything is real: ghosts, monsters, angels, demons, and God's not a dillweed.