I am at the edge of a forty-five foot-long tunnel, the batter in her stance and my catcher in her squat at the other end.
The wind tore through the night like an invisible giant hurling frozen tumbleweeds into trembling cacti. The bright flood lights glanced off the large chunks of snow that whipped in all directions before blanketing the desert plants. “On your marks!” boomed the mayor’s voice through his megaphone. Each contestant instinctively gripped the reigns of their… Continue reading Annual Elder Artic Chariot Racers