11 min
A sample of my writing - Devilish Rain
The hunger was a living thing inside him. It was a cold, coiling serpent in his gut that demanded to be fed. It had started with small things: a stray dog he had kicked in a fit of frustration, the sharp, satisfying yelp it made. Then, a bird whose wing he had crushed, just to see the light go out of its tiny, black eye. He had been horrified at himself, had doubled his meditation, had chanted the sutras until his throat was raw. But the serpent only grew stronger, its whispers more persuasive.