Year of the Lilies

Torrid Season

The River

Kintil

Isla

I LAY STUNNED ON THE WET GROUND, my fingers are digging into the dirt, my hair and dress are plastered to my body and I'm sobbing; the salty tears roll down my cheeks and some seep into my mouth.

I don't know how long I've been lying down here but I know that it's been long enough for the storm to be an ugly memory of a few moments ago. The soft wind that blows is icy and sends shivers down my ...