There had been no tornado, I told myself, just the sound of the jet engine thundering across the desert. But as we wound our way towards the city, following the smooth yellow line down the center of the road, I wondered if our destination glittered like a jewel, if it was home to wizards, talking animals; the things of stories.
The things of movies.
We were greeted by a man like a bear, growling welcome. The city was tinged green in the distance. I linked arms with my three companions, and clacked down the road in my bright red shoes.
Saturday, August 16, 2008