The Night of the Kobolds – Flash Fiction
His kitchen was a hush as all fell asleep, Stomachs stuffed with cured mead, bread, and meat. The feast flung songs up high to the heavens, Now a faint dripping sound was all that could be found. Drip, drop, drip, not all were asleep, Drip, drop, drip, not a sink did he keep, Yet drip, …