Sunday, September 3, 2017

Gorgon


The sound was similar to the piercing cry of a hawk or, at times, to the yapping of a small dog. Yet there was also something unearthly about it, some indescribable element of... what? Agony? Well, of something strange and dark and indefinable. It waylaid the the two men traveling through the forest. Fascinated and appalled by the mysterious strident notes, they followed the siren call through the tangled underbrush until they reached the top of the hill where they finally rested, rubbing their barked shins and scratches. Peering in a small clearing in the vale below them, they saw the source of the haunting cry. It was a gorgon.

Zinnia Dreams

There are people who can make the desert bloom and faded hearts to flower. Such people have a gift ... and such people are a gift.