DARKNESS 17
My dream-self stands on the peak of an incline. She is not alone, but back-to-back with a man. I watch as eight others form a circle around them. All eight men are armed, some with knives, others with farming tools.
My dream-self and her companion turn, hesitantly rotating, until his face comes into view. The man with her is Sean. They whisper to each other, their voices low, lips barely moving to pass the spoken words.
One of the men screams out. “Witch!” He waves a pitchfork as though prodding at hay.
“What should we do, Sean?” she whispers.
“Be calm.”
No buildings are in sight, no houses, shops, pedestrians. The landscape is filled with greens and browns, dips and rises, with nothing else on the horizon for the eye to perceive, as though of another era.
“How many do y
