Fiction by Andrew Bertaina
Mother and I are driving in an immense valley towards large piles of blue rocks, worn away by wind and water. Now the rocks are recast, as our bodies all are one day, into something new, animals from another dimension. I can’t remember why we’re driving into the valley. I think it might have something to do with the stars, the way the empty valley turns them into a glittering bowl unfamiliar to city dwellers like me, who think the sky has three of them at most.