Carol of the Damned
... just a mythic retelling... a dark holiday story...The air was sweet, heavy with the scent of ripe, cloying fruit. The sound of buzzing near the pomegranates that swayed and hung low in the heat was distracting me enough that the woman’s pulse thudded against mine, the salt of her blood splashed its way down my throat like stolen refugees running for asylum in the new land of a foreigners body, was background noise to the glare of the sun. It felt like my pores were squin...
