Amanda Dudek

Deadland

I spat the acrid taste of Deadland dust and sour sweat from my mouth. Pausing, I wound my torn muslin scarf over my nose and mouth. Deadland dust was finer than silt, finding its way into crevices you didn’t know you had...until you did. It was the burn that let you know that you and the dust no longer had secrets from each other. And if you didn’t hurry, you would soon have no secrets at all.