Fiction

Ruth Boon Ruth Boon Ruth Boon Ruth Boon

Blackberries in May

We had exactly one week before the tip of the hill, Beriton, our precious little town, would become submerged by water. Many of the surrounding towns below had been deserted. I imagined living rooms with books floating on a foot of water, kitchens pooled in muddy liquid, mugs and mushrooms bobbing on the surface.

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