by Kristin Lennox
The sun slunk over the horizon, blood-orange and violet flame, flooding the sandstone formations with morning majesty. Wind whispered across the still-grey canyon floor, rustling through dead grasses, around cactus silhouettes.
Jake never tired of the desert sunrise—O’Keeffe, come to life.
It’s gonna get so hot, though.
“Yeah, but it’s a dry heat,” said the cow skull, in a slow, Texas twang. It stared at Jake with its bleached eye sockets, half-buried in the sand. Jake laughed hoarsely, through cracked lips. “Good one,” he croaked.
Chucking his empty canteen, he left the weathered sentinel to trudge east this time.
Kristin is delighted to have had several drabbles published by Black Hare Press. She’s also a voice actor, and when she’s not talking to herself in her padded room (home studio), she tries to get the voices out of her head and onto the page.