Thursday, January 10, 2008

Pith

When he checked the door that last time, it was open, malice leaking free like dry heat. Yes? he called and rattled the ring of keys at his hip. No, came the answer, the voice not unlike his lover, his mother, a wounded horse.

3 comments:

Carly said...

Oh, snap!
That's eerie, lovely.

barkinglips said...

"dry malice" -- extremely cold, so cold it feels like heat.

Joseph Young said...

Thanks, guys!