by Lily Morningstar

THE THICK CANOPY of mango trees overhead blocked out the light of the waning Gibbous moon and I could hear the dry leaves crunch beneath my sandaled feet as we made our way down the crumbling gravel path toward the sound of waves crashing onto hard packed sand. I hurried, imagining giant centipedes coiled, sleeping beneath the leaves, plump with venom, the thought of their hard exoskeletons and many legs made me sick with fear and I wished I'd worn sneakers.