And the door opened to a darkness all too familiar as it were the very same pitch as would greet me any other such evening. And tonight with muted olive painted walls and mahogany furniture lining the hallway I should have felt calmly enough-- aye-but...

“…That firecracker of a child came to me in the time of red pistachio leaves. She loved reaching this part of the book…”

"The lore says her husband buried her beneath a nameless pile of stones. The Earth swallowed up her wants and dreams as it did her remains. And all there be of her is a strange legend in these, the woods of her daughter's son's cousin's step-mother's property..."

"The roiling currents wound about her amphibious feet like a gleeful symphony for a new Queen..."