Tag: J. A. Prentice
-
Bright Young Thing
by J. A. Prentice in Issue 81, October 2018 Faraj beheld Death and was unafraid. She could feel its breath upon her neck. It was in the cloying curls of sweet assaji, the dream-flower, drifting through the tent in an intoxicating cloud. It was in the great fans rising and falling like the wings of hunting…