Imalia drinks in the black rain, bathes in it, body and soul. Her twin daughters, no longer enraptured by the black rain from cloudless skies, have seen her face and cower beside her feet, whimpering. She laughs at them. What mother does not wish to see fear in a daughter’s eyes? Only a fool.
Imalia, mother, Mother. She has always known there were daughters. Nine daughters once. Only eight now. An even number. So inauspicious. Oh what she would do to have the ninth returned. But the ninth reme...
Published on March 08, 2013 15:52