by Rowan West
She called to me from the jungle, a voice more beautiful than the moon itself. I was compelled to follow. She was exquisite to behold, perched on the ridged edge of a wellspring, its shape the most feminine thing I’d ever seen: a green and wine-coloured teardrop with a gorgeous canopy rising up behind. The beauty beckoned, invited me into that sweet smelling vessel. Unbelieving, I rose to her, and slipped over the lip into the pool. It was warm…So warm! And as the nectar enveloped me, I saw that canopy begin to close; and then I knew.
An Aussie-American, Rowan West is an award-winning screenwriter who grew up moving around as a child. He has lived on three continents, in three countries, in eight states, a parish and a region, one of them four times. He has worked as an actor, writer, designer, and enjoys studying psychology.