The shirtless man who stumbled into the bar clutching his side and yelling, "I’ve been shot." His hand dropped away from his wound to reveal a splash of red that looked like a carnation pinned to his skin.
Sunday, December 27, 2009
The drought dragged on for years, and the people kept anxious eyes on the heavens.
“Oh to live under a cloud,” the priests said, but the fathomless blue of clear skies persisted.
Finally, roiling clouds gathered over the near dead earth and the ground received the downpour. Puffs of dust arose as, not raindrops but, spiders struck the terrain. They clogged the streets and swirled down the gutters into the sewers, and within days all yearned for winter when crabs would lie in brittle drifts against the sides of empty houses.