Genesis by Thomas Zman

Genesis Thomas Zman “Good morning, mother,” chorused a score of siblings, rubbing the sleep from their awakening eyes. All were sitting up in their sleep-pods; their surroundings an immense cavernous dome. “Good morning. And how are my progenies, this their day of emergence?” “Oh,…

Mother’s Word

Mother’s Word Summer: 14 and a half years at the Monastery Sunar sat with his head against the wall and tried to process the pain. It felt like every muscle in his back, wings, and chest had caught fire. He barely registered the sound…