The thrall of Scheherazade is a hoop shaped of bitterest willow stretched taut with sheep-gut webbing that buoys a dozen or so ripe dangling gemstones graced with dancing peacock feathers. She doesn’t play the thrall like a lyre, although there are those who would tell you otherwise. No, her sleep alone serves as bait and enticement, and she picks through the night’s catch of stories … Continue reading Story Catcher by Wim Coleman