A Sabrina Orah Mark Style Imitation
When Samantha fell off the roof, the woodsman gathered an iris, the truth, and a yellow moth. He wondered if the junction would occur on Thursday of next week. The queen of a hundred lakes exclaimed with sympathy and licorice. He untangled his boots from Samantha’s white tendrils, feeling a bit embarrassed and underdressed. It was evening. The soldiers would be playing cards by the fire right now.
I heard the woodsman’s toes etching red diamonds on the moth’s left wing. Blood pricked my fingertips. Whether it was one of Samantha’s beaks. Whether the crown bounced off the glass window. I wasn’t sure. Chip after chip…the soldiers upped the ante.