Tag Archives: short-story

The shaman threads the moon on high,A silver knot in midnight sky.She spins beneath its haunted glow,Where truth and shadow come and go. The willow drinks from steel’s sharp tongue,Its roots still hum the songs unsung.A borrowed light, a fleeting … Continue reading →

Winter brushes the fingertipsof the shaman—empty-bodied,visible from all directions—morning and evening. A bird, perched on a dry branch,laughs,its entrails spilling out. Hair, like scattered feathers,drifts towardbuildings stripped bare,unfolding slowly—a voice without accompaniment. The night that had been swept awayreturns to … Continue reading →