Maria Marandola
Joined June 2019
5 stories
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The Garden Ritual
Every night at midnight, the purple clouds came out to dance with the blushing sky. And every night, when I heard the stairs creak as Mama and Zia descended, I’d tiptoe to the sitting room window, peek through the shutter slats, and watch as they basked in the glorious misty haze that settled in our garden. They’d toss their heads back, their faces to the sky, and sing, chant, and pray to the heavens. The scents from our garden filled the night air as the purple clouds coasted by silently—every night for as long as I can remember.
By Maria Marandola3 years ago in Fiction
