The Written Word Group

 When the cuckoo comes to the bare thorn, sell your cow and buy your corn." - Old proverb. I couldn't stop thinking about those stones, what the oldies called Shepard's crowns. Could they exist, and could they protect me from the strange? It was a heavy night, close with mug. Petrichoral aromas wafted strong from outside as I heard the first angry rumblings at sundown. The heat clung to me and the air closed in, a great crack sounded and a bright flash lit the bedroom. The storm grew rapidly in an impressive display, it was right overhead, seemed to wait there, deliberately striking around the village and surrounding silver hills, and though aware these were the conditions needed for the stones to appear, I wouldn't allow meself to believe. That would've been ridiculous. The storm stopped suddenly but moisture hung on the atmosphere like a wet towel. Must've dozed off... Thinking back, I remember that in me halfsleep, I'd a notion there was someone outside....

I was born in  Chile,  bred  in the UK, and retired to Spain. But to understand who I am today, you have to go back, all the way back to where the itch began. In September 1973 Salvador Allende was overthrown by the Chilean military financed and  supported by the USA. Overnight our world collapsed.  Mum, my two sisters and I fled to Argentina leaving  our house, our  belongings, our relatives, and our friends  behind us, in search of our father who had crossed the Andes by foot to Argentina a few months before.  Dad was on the military's hit list for being an active supporter of Allende. He would've been killed if found, as was the fate of many. My middle sister and I had no option but to live in the shadows moving from one safe house to another, while  mum contacted friends to borrow money for the train tickets to cross the border to Argentina. We were NOT living, we were hiding. We settled in San Juan, Argentina for about a...