The sensation of damp gravel against his hand is exactly as Dave remembered, sharp and nauseating at the same time. He stands and brushes down his jeans, then looks at the tiny precise stones stuck to his palms by moisture and imprint. […]
What is the best way to survive a night amongst the singing hills, you ask? Why my child, this is simple—do not go.
What? What’s that? When did the dreams begin? Why didn’t you come to me when the Shrouded One first spoke to you? […]
It was a summer of painful colors and the hottest days on record. He could not remember the last time he’d felt happy, or safe. Most days he feigned hope because he’d heard people found despair unattractive. For months he slept with all the windows open even though the air was full of smoke. […]
We all disappear eventually.
Your father said this to you when you were a child. You’ve forgotten many things, but you remember that. You’d befriended a stray calico, a ragged, skinny thing with a milky eye and gimpy foreleg. You’d fed it greasy breakfast scraps every morning one summer until it fattened— […]
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