Zipporah was free, flowering forever.

Art c/o Michelle Perez

Zipporah appraised her situation - lost, lost in the garden. She had to escape - not just the maze, but also her pursuers.

There were three paths in front of her. To her left, flowers. The path smelled like love and salvation. To her right, coffee and chicory and licorice teased her nose. Straight ahead? Rotten death and nothing good. Zipporah considered her options.

She'd been running for days at this point and wanted only to escape her pursuers. She'd run deeper and deeper into the garden. She'd been enticed by the promise of salvation or bounty or even just the minimum that might keep her alive. She was done with it.

Zipporah chose death. She walked forward. She wanted the pain to end. The stench assaulted her. Enveloped her. Absorbed her. She felt as if her flesh sloughed off her bones. Yet she walked. She walked.

It was a full three days later before she was found. She'd escaped the pain. She'd escaped the garden. She'd escaped her pursuers.

Zipporah was free, flowering forever.

New Orleans Public Library

 

Shuttin' Down

Due to Rain

That's Okay

So's My Brain

One Whole Day

Down the Drain

A Long Way Home

 It was a long way home. I'd done what I'd set out to do. I'm not sure how I'd wandered so far. Yet here I was, job done, a long way from home.

It'd all started some two months earlier. It wasn't much compared to many folks, but it was mine - a dozen cattle stolen in the black of night by brigands unknown. It was all I had. They were all I had. I set myself in motion.

Art c/o Kayla

Tracking had been easy - the growing herd made an increasingly large print upon the land as the thieves increased their take. The issue was with the confrontation. I was one man. One man against a multitude.

I'd timed my strikes. Snare a man while he was bathing - it was just bad luck that he got caught in a current. Shred a man who strayed too far from the group - there were wolves about; one needed to be cautious. Shoot a man during another raid - the price of doing business.

Empire

 "Under your jacket?"

The man, comically adorned in an oversize raincoat and wide-brimmed fedora, put his fingers to his lips. His eyes darted left and right. He leaned toward me.

"Yeah," he whispered.

Art c/o Nazia

I was entirely unsure how to react in this situation. I mean, I'd seen it in cartoons. Hell, even Sesame Street lampooned the situation in their "wanna buy an eight" sketch. Yet here I was, for real, a few feet down a dark alley engaging in an illegal deed. Participating in an illegal occupation.

"A whole empire?" I whispered back, still not believing.

"Sure, why not?" he answered.

Love, Money, or Respect

 "Love, money, or respect?"

The young woman looked at the hunched man for a moment before responding.

"I can't have all of them?" she asked.

"That's beyond my power," he answered.

The young woman pondered for a while, weighing things in her mind.

"Not to be Machiavellian, but what's the difference between love and respect?"

"Love - love is to die for someone. Love is to protect. Love is man's desire - someone so committed to another their life is forfeit. Love is something parents should feel for their children. Love is something few men receive after childhood. Love is something women expect from their partners and are willing to trick themselves into believing they're receiving."

Jerk Off Into the Sun

 "Go jerk off into the sun."

My face involuntarily turned into the furrowed-brow, cross-eyed, slack jawed expression of incomprehension so characteristic of Tucker Carlson as a dull "wut?" escaped from my lips and nearly splat upon the floor.

"You heard me," Jane, the line to my squiggle, spat.

"Jerk off into the sun?" I managed.

"Jerk off into the sun," she confirmed.

I stood perplexed as she spun on her heel and left the bar.