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Smoke and Mirrors
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2025-06-02 22:00:45***Marisol’s POV***
The air pressed down on me, thick as a wet grave shroud. The scent of damp earth flooded my senses, clinging to the back of my throat like a forgotten sorrow. I was back in that place. The ghost of my childhood home. Its adobe walls now sagging like rotten fruit. The courtyard tiles cracked and sprouting blackened thorns that wept a viscous, amber resin—sticky and smelling faintly of decay.The bougainvillea, my mother’s pride, was a withered skeleton against the pale sky of the dream. Its papery flowers replaced by husks that rattled like dried scorpion tails in the wind.Mamá’s voice surfaced, soft as the petals she once nurtured: *“Marisol, beauty is defiance here. Remember that.” Her hands, soil-caked and steady, cupped the blooms. ‘They thrive when neglected,’ she lied. A lesson in survival.”* Now, the thorns pierced my skin, mocking her memory.A low, thrumming dread vibrated through me, a sound like a tho
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Iron Veve's Kiss Smoke and Mirrors
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