“ For whom do you cry, my son?” the Great Spirit asked.“I do not know.”“Yes, you do. ”
He pushed a finger through the surface of the water to trace the outline of her mouth. Ethereal bits of flesh floated loosely about his knuckle and nail. Then, calmly, he pulled her body up out of the tub and into his arms. He placed his lips on hers, now as cold and dead as his own.
~ P.j. Parker
The stuff of nightmares is not only relegated to unconscious thoughts upon a pillow, safely beneath an eiderdown.
A Time Comes When Silence is Betrayal.
Thunderbird ascended on the heady currents of air that bore her high above the vast landscape of Túwaqachi. She stretched her broad wings, the heat lifting her through the silence, her glossy brown feathers shimmering in the sunlight.
