She's the far end of the graveyard up where the nettles grow

After a nap and some coffee, my brain regenerated somewhat.

"The Garden, The Moon, The Wall"
Words tonight: 539
Words total: 1862
Reason for stopping: running out of steam
Sustenance: oranges
Tyop: n/a
Darling: Maybe the garden is a place for her, an Eden for ghouls and monsters, where the trees pump blood instead of sap and hearts grow ripe and beating on the vine. A place where she'll never have to eat roadkill again.
Mean things: bad dreams, her dead ex keeps bothering her
Other work: sent Realms a bio and picture