April 14, 2016 by petrujviljoen
There are no words for this sort of thing. I mean, there are, but they’re almost always … Almost always misses … Obscures the …
There are 1157 of them. In one area. Today, as I write. Identified, registered with the authorities. This time we live in. Now.
Was it better under the Matriarchy? This shameless book. Open. Plotting forward to finding … healing. For some.
Persophone emerges from the place called The Black Pool of No-Light, blue veins throbbing at her throat, her temples, gasping, almost sobbing with the effort. Places the Book of All of Them on the nearby stone.
Image copyright Kent Bonham
Linked to Friday Fictioneers in response to a post by Danielle Owenby, who is working on a project in aid of sufferers of child sexual abuse. If people are unable to assist, kindly spread the word through facebook or other social media.