by H. Tsory
I have a story in the latest edition of Locust Magazine called ‘University Library’:
Incidents while drifting through corridors…
‘I approach a tarnished wooden table bending under the weight of texts. One archaic-looking tome catches my attention. It’s an atlas, waiting to be opened again.
The atlas creaks open, land slides out.
The land is wrong, the boundaries are different and the coastlines are off. There was more ice then, less liquid water …’