Black Dragon
Originally published in The Edge of Propinquity issue 54
Her skin pale in death, Nan's face resembled a statue's.
After three days of standing next to it, I knew all its wrinkles. The way the flickering candle light would make her look alive, the way she seemed to flinch when someone she hadn't liked entered her house.
Such as Aunt Mary.
The sound of her voice preceded her heavy footsteps in the hall. A rough, smoke-edged drawl, bellyaching about the weather. The door clanged open and brought a whiff of cigarette smoke.
I straightened my back, pretending not to be there. My cousin Tamati, standing on the opposite side of Nan's head, did the same.
Aunt Mary, all hundred and twenty-odd kilograms of her, wobbled to a stop at the foot of the coffin. She gave me the evil wat
