Garden of Heaven
A sharp report from the crest of the hill split the road in half. Where the road met the sky, a clumsy hulk with pale, yellow headlights stood low to the ground like a stalking cat. If the monster ever had a muffler, it was gone now–that backfire sounded like a shotgun blast. Now it was moving, slowly at first, and then, with the grade, began to pick up speed.
The moment overflowed with energy. He flung himself into his work, pushing, pushing. Lightning struck a tree on the ridge below the road. He looked behind him into a large eye, jumped inside the car, pulled the door shut, and braced himself for mere seconds before the power waggon ploughed into the rear of the Opel. The impact shattered the back window and shoved the car against the row of hickory trees that guarded the dull edge of the ridge. Thunder obscured his words from the world’s ears, and his own.
The Sun Singer
Sonny heard the roar of the river, heard the men shouting, “The sorry devil is trapped,” heard Yarrow’s breathing and the crunch of leaves beneath his boots, and thought of the owl and whistled, “hoooo hoo-oooo, hoo hoo,” and the call pierced the night. The soldiers stopped briefly, and the leader said, “It’s a signal, he’s led us into a trap,” and another said, “No, it’s a mere boy,” and Yarrow looked where they looked and his mouth opened wide, but he had no time to speak, for in that brief moment when the scene was paused in the current moment before Sonny’s eyes, he swung the staff into the scene and whispered, “Save Yarrow with sunfire.”
A lightning bolt of yellow and blue flame leaped from the tip of the staff and bit into the night, sizzling over Yarrow’s head, enveloping the men in a shower of sparks. Sonny cringed at the fear on their faces. Yarrow shook his head as men and horses tumbled into the water. Then he looked behind him again to see the dying embers of the flame floating gently to the ground; they glistened on the wet rocks like diamonds before they disappeared.