In the belly of darkness, Margo struggles along, searching. Rolf’s in here somewhere, heart and breath reduced to whispers, but still holding on, still waiting for her to find him, still waiting for his Moe. His agony rings in her like bells, resounding in the marrow of her. She wraps herself in it, taking as much as she can into herself, hoping to spare him some small measure.
The Absence is far different than she expected, a more physical presence than shadows, or nightfall. It’s muscular, m...
Published on September 06, 2013 17:19