An open door is an open invitation
Beheaded gladiolus littered the ground. The gnarled stick raised on high, I celebrated my victory with whoops and whirls.
It was a curse, the kind no one believes in any more. The kind frazzled adults wish on unruly children who trample flowerbeds on a summer Sunday afternoon.
The woman, her fresh-from church-face melting in the Texas heat, looked into my eyes. I froze despite the heat. Caught in that backyard garden that I'd sworn never to enter again - and she cursed me.
She wished me monsters.
But enough about me, you want more...
