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Crows Take Care Of Crows
I pressed my toes into the damp earth and leaned back, letting the sun bathe my pale face. Blue eyes—Crow eyes—can’t handle the bright sun. I closed them and watched the back of my eyelids turn the color of pomegranate. Sunflakes settled all around me, and a river of deep green slid beneath the trees. This is where I come to think. Somewhere in the lush canopy above, a mourning dove cried. This will ruin your life, Mara. I rubbed my stomach, which wouldn’t be flat anymore by winter. I wanted to be the first of five to finish high school. Those plans died in the back seat of Tim’s…
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Our Sally Is Gone
Rural USA, December 21, 1927 Sally May climbed the carved granite steps, careful not to slip on the damp stone. The cave walls wept, and cool drops fell from the ceiling. She could already hear her parents scolding her. They might even send her to bed without supper. Daddy would say, “Sarah, how many times have we told you? Don’t go wanderin’ like that.” Momma would tell her, “Go on to bed, Sally.” In the thirteen years since momma birthed her, they still couldn’t agree on the name. She loved the way grandma said her name with that drawl. SallaMay. Skeletal trees scratched at the cave’s mouth, as if trying…