Time for another installment of Book Spine Flash Fiction, crafted especially for you from Erin’s Bookshelf. Here goes:
Her magical thinking spit back a boy, burning down the house, world and town. Rosemary’s baby was falling into place, wrestling the angel. Her parched son, on the road —— a pagan’s crusade. We swim that rock, seeing red, down the long valley to the invisible city. We were liars getting over the rainbow.