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A Young Woman Should Never Go Alone at Night – Jared Povanda

Red cloak, blue fruit bruised and sweating, and the forest, washed amber but growing colder, full of snarls and a stream’s sighing and ghosts stirring branches. A basket on one arm. Steady steps down a dirt trail. Deer coalescing into dusk.

Grandmother’s house: warm scents of cinnamon, warmer quilts.

The door opens inward.

Grandmother, in bed, but what’s that speck of apple red on the corner of her mouth? And why is the light so low? And why, when she rises to greet her granddaughter, does the candlelight cast a shadow in the shape of a wolf on the wall?

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