Author: Guede Mazaka
The earth's gotten so much richer and darker, like wet black silk running through his fingers. It nourishes the corn, makes the plants heavy with ears of yellow gold. And like a kind doctor, Mort delivers the stalks of their fruit and carefully carries the ears back into the house.
This isn't to say he's ungrateful to the dirt. Oh, no. As a matter of fact, every time he goes out to the garden, the first thing he does is hunker down until his ear almost touches the ground. He listens to the rustle of corn, the tiny squelch of moist soil-
--and the screams. Then he smiles, gets up, and harvests the corn. It's like this: he and the earth have an agreement. Because her bounty doesn't come free, after all. And neither do his talents.