Carol knows to keep her head while all about are losing theirs. But that’s easier said than done in this story of rage, revenge and redemption.

Carol

Carol wakes to the whir of a sluggish blade. Round and round it goes in slow motion, like a pendulum. The cool breeze feels good on her burning face. She’s flat on her back in a narrow bed. Where? She lifts her head to get her bearings.

Her eyes startle wide with fear when she sees him. Him — in the same room with her, just a stone’s throw away. Panic rises, but she fights it down. Don’t lose your head.

A male nurse steps near and turns off the floor fan. Blades tick-tock to a stop. “You’re in a hospital, Carol.” His voice is tired, but kind.

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Apples, tobacco plants, the human heart…worms gnaw from the inside out in The Feeding.

The Feeding

His reach fell short. He was after the fruit in the uppermost branches. Only the apples without blemish would serve for seed. Brice grasped a limb and bowed it toward him. The apples bobbled like rubies on a thrummed wire. The green limb would not snap. He bent it back and forth. He was too greedy to let any drop. He worked the wood at the joint until the branch gave way and the apples were his for the taking.

He cupped the first apple in his palm. He held it before his eyes, turning it as though he were checking for flaws in an egg, and then placed it in his shirt front.

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