Nobody outside of the community would know, because there’d be no way for them to know. This curse is ours, and ours alone. No other land sees the creature—no one else has to fear it like we do. Our ancestors spilt the blood on this land, and this land makes us pay for it.
And over again.
When the crops rise, and the harvest moon peaks its bleary eyes out over the night sky, we know.
It’s almost time. Continue reading “Part of the Crop: A Tale of Harvest”
Wars do not have happy endings.
I don’t care if your side won or lost. If your people got what they wanted or not. If you benefitted or not. It doesn’t matter.
For someone, even on the winning side, something was lost.
And that usually means a life.
Regardless of what you won from the war, there were losses. Losses of grand proportions. Losses of life.
And, for some, that’s too much to lose.
War is tragic. War is a divider. War is a killer.
Just because you survive doesn’t mean everything is good.
Things still aren’t good. Continue reading “Across the War”