As Above, So Below
by Lynette Mejía
Above, the leaves flash, autumn sky a reel, 8mm, flickering in the shaded darkness they flutter, ticking off the seconds as the color drains retreats into twig, branch, and trunk leaving them brittle and dry Beneath, tourists, history buffs, the curious stroll wide-eyed, all smiles and wonder through the gardens, along the galleries they sip tea admiring period pieces and well-crafted reproductions of how things used to be Below, the earth, blood-soaked the stored up hatred of the unacknowledged calls through restless bones mending, advancing, rising seeking an accounting that memory knows, deep down, is long overdue
Lynette Mejía writes science fiction, fantasy, and horror prose and poetry. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in Redstone Science Fiction, Everyday Weirdness, Daily Science Fiction, and Strange Horizons. She is currently working on a master’s degree in English Literature at the University of Louisiana-Lafayette, and lives in the middle of a fairy tale forest in Carencro, Louisiana, with her husband, three children, six cats, one dog, and one fish.
When asked to name her favourite fruit, she replied as follows: "my favorite fruit is ripe, juicy peaches, still warm from the sun."
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