Can you write a story at Great America?
And then with a bam-boom-schram-a-flam, the grapnel swapfnicker sort of thing rose up from the leaves in the creek bed, and he tore off his head, which wasn't his head at all, but a mask
A child’s summer long ago
A memory of standing in front of a camera, smiling wide as a sunset, no worries about how I looked.