Silent Empire

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Once upon a time I picked up a book entitled Fahrenheit 451 and discovered the magic of writing. It is only appropriate I dedicate this story to the memory of the Ray Bradbury, the man who put an indelible stamp upon a young man’s mind, altering his future forever.

— Bard Constantine

They live only in my dreams.

The woman with autumn hair and laughing eyes along with the child who shares her features. I see them night after night, always the same scene. The moment is captured in my mind like a hummingbird in hand, beautiful and ever so fragile.

It is breakfast time. The table and dinnerware are chipped and as threadbare as their clothing, but somehow that doesn’t matter. There is something precious there, something poverty cannot touch. It’s the light in her eyes as she gently pats her son’s cheek. It’s in his answering smile. Streams of light effuse through the blinds as though the sun shines harder for them, illuminating the room in saffron shades like a photograph dusted in gold.

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