Lump’s Dream
LUMP LUMBERED OUT OF the forest with a black-haired woman slung over his shoulder. She hung limp and unconscious. With his thick, scarred hands, he swung her to the ground and lay her on the grass, cradling her head as he lowered her. He looked at her face, her smooth skin. He trailed his wide fingers down her cheek. He felt his own face. His fingertips travelled over the ridges and grooves in his flesh. He ran his palm over his scalp, over the lumps and scabs. The scars.
He lifted the woman back onto his shoulder, the perfume in her hair, apple blossoms, touched his nostrils and he breathed in. His own stink mingled with hers, tarnishing it. He took her to a small stone house. He halted. His mother stood in the doorway.
“Bring her inside.” His mother twirled away into the
