The Woven Tale Press Vol. II #11

Page 41

The last day, my wife and I heard my son speaking in his room. And another voice. We went in. A bright blue flash turned toward us. “We have to go,” my three year old calmly explained, “now.” “These sands end time here, the last to flow through the hour-glass,” the blue lizard-creature, Pollaydowen, added. As we left the house, we trekked through hills of sand. We returned once, to see what had happened. I left this note for you, scratched in the walls, just in case anyone remains. We have an ark.

Artwork by Michael Dickel


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