A journal of narrative writing.

Listen to Prophecy
read by Sandy Longhorn

Soon the city will learn to live crowned by dangers, the air marked by blackbirds, their staccato sermons and blood-stained epaulettes. At night they will roost in attics, those wooden ribs exposed by rotting roofs. The flock will bury the path to salvation among the cast-off clothes and broken chairs, silent radios, a handful of abandoned nests. The trick will be to catch the strongest bird alive and learn its twisted song, to sing the communion call with enough conviction to drive the danger out.