by Fatal Syndrome
This is the final entry in a special series by guest authors this week. See them all, here.
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Femme-Fatal(e)
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As the Late October wind blew across the fields today, the smell of freshly cut grass was arresting, and I took an ice cold sip from a sweaty bottle of water to quench the rising thirst within me. I leaned back against the hot metal of my car and surveyed the job my uncle had done on the acres of land.
I am a woman from a family of rough men and rough boys who grow into rough men, and my uncle is no exception. Continue reading
