The Black Naught: Episode One

Kindra M. Austin – A story begins

Heretics, Lovers, and Madmen


Birds/Bleeding Hearts

I remember lying down between cool cotton sheets at dusk, when the black naught in the corner of our once shared bedroom would yawn awake. I was always sent to bed early the night before the big trip to Tawas, even though I was old. I’d ignore the sentinel thing—it and I had an unspoken agreement—and look out the window to watch the dim white stars stir silvery blue in an inky sky. What if I could pull down the night? I’d wonder, and imagine thick wet panes falling to the earth. Other times, I’d try to hear the sound of God’s choir. A sound so awesome is something unfathomable, though, so I’d end up falling asleep to the memory-sound of your perfect breathing. I didn’t realize when you were alive that the resonance of your young lungs was far more marvelous than any song sung by…

View original post 2,975 more words

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s