The Little Grass Doll
At the heart of the hedges a vault opened where the sun fell violet through the flowers. And there lived our secret friends.
At the heart of the hedges a vault opened where the sun fell violet through the flowers. And there lived our secret friends.
He did not always dream of the ziggurat. Sometimes his slumber was black and silent and he woke up happy to a new day, equal to all other days.
Before going to sleep, she switched on her radio. The crackling of the white noise soothed her, somehow. It had no indicator of the remaining battery, but she dreaded the day it would run out.
The prairie was infinite and, in that moment, eternal. The mountains shadowed the horizon and the sky was low and asphyxiating. And that song, endless and terrible, louder now, filled everything.