NEW FICTION:

The thunder barked and rolled across the sullen, empty space above him. He could smell the live electricity in the air, taste the hint of bitterness to come, on his tongue. It had been a hard, dry summer, every sunny day had forced another to come after. Earth had dried then cracked like overwrought scabs, turn brittle, then fade into dust. Trees terminally drooped, grass dried to tinder, then faded away like a rapidly receding hairline. He closed his eyes, allowed himself to roll with the thunder. He felt his skin tingle. He held his hand to his face, felt his fingers flutter, felt his heart beat, his lungs squeeze, his ankles quiver. He felt like a ghost in the wrong landscape, like a vivid dream adrift in the hot wind. Thunder barked and rolled again, barked and rolled in the empty sky. He started to hum a muted faraway song, and waited for the rain that would never now come.