The first time I let the answering machine pick up and heard a voice I didn't recognize at first, a voice asking me that I return the call so we could...talk. Then like a distant memory, surfaced in my mind's a voice asking me to put sunscreen on her front, it was, with minor differences the same voice of the telephone, the voice of my mother. Even today, I couldn't answer her.She called five more times in the next hour, each message becoming less demanding until the final one, when she was. Laughing he moved to a nearby cushioned pad and sat down. I saw then that I was in fact surrounded by several men. All of them had the same look as the first, if far less aged and weathered. I tried to sit up, but had not the strength. As weak as a babe, I lay there on their floor while these men, desert tribesmen I guessed, spoke. Not to me, I was not spoken to again, but about me I was sure. I smelled something that was not goat or man then. A dark, half-burnt smell. I watched a fully covered. More

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