I had always known my gramps to be a strange man. As often as he seemed to let the simple things slip from his mind, there was never a day I didn’t see him holding that book. Seldom did he let me glimpse more than a few stray words, but now I held it between my fingers, and it had never looked so heavy before. Thick and timeworn, its yellowed cover and sturdy, stiff pages had a … [Leer más...]
Hereditary
The seed of wrath roots in her stomach, the seed of a sin that grows into a daughter. It’s a sin that swells, splits the womb and sprouts, all teeth, all sour, all ugly things to the core. My bitterness is my mother’s heirloom, a relic of her unspoken labor, a silence carved from the marrow of rage, rage shaped into a compliant shape, rage taught to swallow like rotten … [Leer más...]
