5 February 2013
Long ago the shrill wind had blown away the sun, and in its victory continued its tireless race across the rain-scarred heavens. The wind’s panting, whistling whispers, like the shrieks of lost voices, echoed down the chimney and stirred the embers into a frenzy. New plumes of flame lashed out, as ravenous as the diners they warmed, and consumed the only bits of fuel in their vicinity — some pathetic crumbles of wood, tendrils of smoke, and a blackened skull still shiny with membranes...
From "Confrigno," available for free on iBooks.
Confrigno: Opening Lines • Opuss № I