wailing on air on the crack of a glacier as it calves as the figures in the chamber of horrors in the wax museum come to life . . . rivers of their blood coming closer to the door where the last tourist is attempting to flee as the automatic lock activates . . . oh no. . . not fast enough. . . perhaps it’d be better just to die on the spot . . . better than feeling the hands of those disembodied arms around your neck as they begin to squeeze . . .
My fall series post for today published over on my Substack at the link. Please scroll down to the end to see everything including this fabulously jeweled up serpent by Wallace Chan.
