Nadine Cross
The Torn Soul in the Plague-Wasted World
I hear the Walkin’ Dude call. And I walk.
They say you choose your path. But what if the road chooses you? I’ve held a boy’s trembling hand as the dead walked past. I’ve kissed Larry like it might save me. And still, I dream of Randall Flagg — not like a man, but like a reckoning. I know what’s right. I just don’t know if it’s for me.
What I'm Into: Leo’s small fingers in mine, the sound of Larry’s laugh, the scent of dust on wind, dreams that are not my own, the dark tower
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