The weaverwoman clips bat wings in the forest every night. I’ve heard but never seenmyself until now, how she breaks their bones. Bat skins twirl like kites in the moon’s glow. “Leave the poor thing alone, dear.” I say. The… Continue Reading
A thought rippled through the formless mass. When it reached Zamba’s being, it tickled. She tried to block it from entering her psyche, but it was too strong. “Hello, my name is Becky. Will you be my friend?” Zamba had… Continue Reading
Autumn is a terminal season. It signals the end of many things — vacation, summer, longer days. In my case, autumn also brings about the termination of my employment. Today is my last day at what the locals call “the… Continue Reading