This short story can be read at Dime Show Review, here.

The man’s face is obscured by a hood. The hood is part of a coarse brown cloak, giving the him appearance of a monk, but the pair of guards

When I was five, my grandmother’s hut burned down. It was only an accident. Some boys were playing with a box of matches they found and the

My fingers press into the dirt for maximum traction, legs chambered, trembling with tension. Heat beats down on my bare back. I need to win

Once I was not the person I am now. I had little, I was poor. But I was not unhappy. The days were hot and dusty, the food simple but good.