Zenobia dragged out the ending of her story for two years. It took that long for her to trust the prince to kill her. During the first year, she simply gave him the knife with which to do it. In the meantime, Zenobia did languish, though not in the dungeon the prince set up for her. She daydreamed about that cold, dripping cell. It seemed preferable to the single stripe of shade she currently sat in against the warm sandstone wall.

*Based on a true story*

The faint glow of the moon was drowned in a blaze of light as a battered pickup truck rounded the corner of the rough dirt road. It bounced slowly over the uneven surface as it navigated the sharp turns of the valley. The driver gazed with half focus on the road ahead as it was revealed by the headlights. He fancied he could stay on the road even without the lights, he’d traveled it so many times.