Through the Candyman’s Yellow Smile
“Just push it a little further,” my grandfather tells me, “Until the shift reaches the letter D.” “Ok,” I tell him, my little awkward fingers wrapped around the contours of the car’s automatic stick shift, its cracked and dried leather scratching and clawing the smooth grooves in my fingers.
Through This Valley of Fire
Ch. 1: First Steps from the Familiar There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. Once, men stood with firm feet in these reaching spires of stone and hardy wood. Tales told in taverns far tell of kings who long ago talked to the clouds in whispers and lived with gold and riches like none the world had ever seen. These kings lived with no public faces, no names for which their deeds could be remembered. I stand on the edge of a great and beautiful nothing that was once theirs, my feet digging into withered grass the color of old leather.