The Wanderer

There was a young Caucasian boy with fair brown skin as dark as coffee who was washed up ashore traveling amongst foreigners.

His eyes were as wide as the moon and his hair thee unholiest blackish of night.

One of us had a vision that night. And the very next morning, she had awoken to find them all dead.

Her vision was a boy who kept on killing mercilessly. Wandering.

They called her “Vision.”

They called him “The Wanderer.”