CurseThe water in the buckets trembles as if the roof was crying. The walls are damp as if from sweat. I have taken live embers from the fireplace and put them on the deep scratches across the lifelines on my palms.Curse18 hours ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
A grey-coated crow ascends from the top of the tall pine on the yard, carrying my whispers upon its beating wings. All winter I have fed it bread soaked in your blood.
I lay as if I were dead, floating placidly like Ophelia among the blooming waterlilies. I hold a cross over my heart and feel the heat of the wings of your firebirds passing overhead.
I have taught all my songs to the nightingales. Only the first note of every line I keep to myself, to feed a hidden flame. The hunting dogs can only chase their tails.