The Witch's TongueThe sky was still and heavy. I sat alone, listening to the wind slide over the rooftops like a whisper that didn’t want to be heard. That night, God spoke. Not in thunder. Not in fire. But in silence beside the television set. He gave visions. Six or seven, clear and hard as bullets. And one of them — one — was dark enough t

The Storm Came Without AskingThe thing about storms is—they never ask permission.They don’t knock. They arrive. Sudden. Unforgiving.You might catch the sky darkening, but by then, it’s already too late.The wind’s tearing at the door, and it doesn’t care if you're ready.Doesn’t care if you just set your life in order,or if your hands are