Alexander R. Wilkerson's Articles in Stories
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Arbora
With the light crashing down upon my crown, I suspect a false fever. A wide grin cracks open my cranial facade, sparking enlightenment. My feet are firmly implanted in a thick layer of complex and starving green ivy, and I am able to sense a wet, corporeal steam-heat. Through my nostrils it breathes, clouding all perception. Helios’s broken arrows ignite the fallen arbor and dampen the already-wet canopy of lush green leaves.
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