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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Aug, 2022
The fervent and the faithful came—trailers of white foam flickering like ghosts on the water’s surface, their riverboats and wagons pushing through the churn as if the river itself was swallowing them whole. The rivers don’t flow here. They churn. They fold back into themselves like a breathing thing, rearranging the geography with each flood—towns forgetting their names like bad dreams lost in the morning mist.I stand on the cracked opening, watching the edges blur, the horizon curl inwards like a page tearing itself apart. The river is a l...
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