Stolen Tongues

by Felix Blackwell

The last gasps of daylight had already come and gone, and the forest began to unleash its gloom across the landscape.

A shotgun blast of panic exploded through me, propelling me into a full sprint. My screams echoed all across the mountain, summoning a choir of evil voices to join in. A thousand cries rang out all around me, stoked by my fiery terror.

Between her loss and Tíwé’s death, I had discovered the true poverty of the words “I’m sorry.”