It was past noon, but still bright. All kinds of insects were flying about the low sunbeams, and the stems of various flowers would bend under the weight of a little bee’s alighting. I wondered if any of these buzzing creatures were miss Agie’s sweet-makers, as she lovingly named them. Somewhere crickets chirruped, and the gentle gurgling of the river was still in my memory.
Like a censer, I gently rocked the river-stone, feeling its weight move from right to left as I watched the demon-skin turn its gaping death mask on me. I met its unblinking eyes, ceaseless hunger.
Tale Told 