I’d actually been warned about the mountain years before, in the days when we were still in the Bronx, when all we’d climbed were the stairs on Bailey Avenue. Back then the ascent was no less tricky, with the steps that crumbled and the men who sat at the top, like goats, watching until we got close and then following us through the neighborhood. In the winter there was nothing extraordinary about the cold, more dirt than snow, just enough ice to make you doubt the ground.Continue reading “Thorong-La by Jessica Hutter”
Two Live Here by Samantha Swain
Alexia hiked ahead of Cian. Frozen pine needles crunched under her boots and frosted ferns brushed past her jeans. The denim shimmered silver for a moment then grew dark as the ice melted into the fabric.
Low Pressure Terracotta by Robert P. Kaye
The wind stopped blowing on Friday afternoon. Unexpected, since it had never happened before, the problem usually too much wind versus too little. The army of giant turbines stopped rotating in unison. An eerie view from Wayne’s perch in the control tower.
Continue reading “Low Pressure Terracotta by Robert P. Kaye”