Kenneth Bernoska

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“Aren’t you bound to the land? The men of the society?” It said nothing. Menacing. Stinking of smoke. Rotten animals. Black raffia. Eagle feathers. A custodian of death from across the seas. I clasped my hands together. I scratched my thumb, looked down at my father’s ring. Ajofia still didn’t move.
Out There Screaming: An Anthology of New Black Horror
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