The river was endless.
It stretched like a vein of black glass through the dark, wide enough to swallow sky and shore alike. The air smelled of iron and salt. Each pull of the oar echoed like a heartbeat too slow to belong to the living.
The corpse on the table had a melted eye socket, no pulse, and a sticky note on its forehead that read: Don’t eat Carl’s yogurt.
Mariana Vale adjusted her gloves. “You’re contaminating a crime scene, Luke.”
Luke James, wearing two left shoes, a NASA hoodie, and a baseball cap that read “Rebel Alliance Flight School,”
Recent Comments