Contributor: Phillip Donnelly - - In the dream, he was a she. He had the frame of a young girl, thin and fragile, but the body had no face. He, or rather she, or it, or whatever, was walking along a rocky beach in late Autumn. The sun set, turning the sky a dark red, like the embers of a forgotten fire. She knew she was looking for something but did not know what. There was a dreamy emptiness to her quest, but also the will to continue. She could make something out near the water's edge and cautiously approached the bobbing figure, wondering what it could be. The sound of the waves washing against the shores grew. It became magnified and distorted and each wave began to cry. Each wave was soured with the bitter spite of all little girls, each wave's curl was twisted by the crashing malice of a child’s hate. The sun, which had been setting,...

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Author: Phillip Donnelly