Time for another installment of Book Spine Flash Fiction, crafted from Erin’s bookshelf.
The virgins sway like a river — winterswim the distant hours. You ask me, “How do you pray?” You ask me how to be interesting. You ask me if you could be mine.
This proud heart echoes from the macabre: “Witness a voyage long and strange. You better not cry after the first death, if I were you.”
You witness the fall looking backward. You got nothing coming. Reflections in a golden eye echo the sound and the fury.
The bones of you dust the long valley.