excerpt from my latest:
The Line King
In the heart of the emerald jungle, where the canopy stitched the sky shut and cicadas sewed the night with pins of sound, a young lion named Kivuli learned the shape of power. He learned it from his mother first—the quiet weight behind a stare, the sudden whip of muscle in tall grass—and later from the pride, who followed him at dusk when his silhouette already looked like a crown.
He should have become everything the savanna expected: a gold-mane king with a throat made for thunder. Instead, on a moonless night, he found a different kind of lightning.
The campers were messy gods: they cooked meat till the dark smelled like a festival, laughed at nothing, and slept with their soft throats pointed at the stars. Kivuli circled them once, twice, a sleek rumor in the scrub. A zipper rasped. A bag glowed white inside. He sniffed. The powder smelled sharp and electric, like rain trying to happen.
He dipped his nose, sneezed, blinked—and the world broke open like a struck match.
Colors sharpened. Sounds braided. Every mosquito was a symphony. Kivuli felt ten feet tall and bulletproof and gloriously, stupidly certain he could outrun the moon. He paced the campsite, vibrating with ideas. Could he invent new gazelles? Punch a baobab into orbit? He loved everyone and everything, especially himself. When the campers woke to slashed tents and missing “Colombian Lightning,” they found pawprints across the cooler lid, neat as calligraphy, dusted white.
That was the beginning...
tbc
My neighbors and kids think I'm the cool grandpa....they just don't know behind walls I got weed growing. The picture is of my Berry Garden...which stands for a very large Blue Dream weed plant. Im just gonna have to go to one of those pick your own berry places and bring back and pass them out to the kids.....
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