Evan had heard it all before. A paradise underground, made for things like the worm in front of him. A place where Evan would forget he had ever been human, forget he had a mother,...

The other dark places,’ Evan whispered. Visions of tunnels of earth and stone, caves and streams entered his head. It was far beneath them. He knew it was real and it was down there, waiting.

Our town carves up and spits out a few seeds each year. We all approach autumn with dread because nobody wants to be a seed.