#Writephoto – Harbinger

Roberta Writes

Sitting cross-legged on the rough stone floor, she sees the world through a gauzy film of unreality. The chunk of dark sky at the end of the stone chamber looks thick, like the canopy of the leaves in the jungle at night, and the stars are larger and brighter than they should be. They move forward and then back, shrouded in shimmering light, that brightens and darkens in rhythm with the movement of their ethereal dance.

Relaxed and happy after consuming large amounts of maize beer and coca, a lump of which remains in her mouth, she half smiles at the shadowy spectral shapes, with no discernible faces, moving around at the entrance of the cave. She can hear their voices, indistinct and rumbling like distant thunder, but she cannot understand what they are saying. It doesn’t occur to her to try and speak to them and, even if it…

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