cynthia

By Cynthia Morgan (Copyright 2006, All rights reserved on this one) Of all the poor villages in the otherworld, Santa Abuelita was the poorest. Crouched in sere yellow hills, barely able to feed its hardworking peasants, Santa Abuelita could boast of little but its tiny chapel. The chapel itself was unremarkable though lovingly tended. The villagers propped up its tilting [...]

The lawyer wears her hair as some wear mink, a black pelt cascading down her back. It covers the small scar on her forehead, memento of the only time her mother ever struck her. She told me that the blow plunged her into shocked silence; protection, she now knew, from the hungry soldiers who’d come that night for her sister. [...]