The Sunrise Lath

THE FLAME

What it was: the ofrenda gate's crossbar, split lengthways the morning after the Chalk filled — Old Snast kept splitting until there was enough to go round, and set one brass nail in each: the Fitting, his mark. Whose it was: everyone who walked a night of Season One. There is one for each of you. Its stream burns this color in the night — and whatever the flame, every muerto it calms still warms to marigold on the way home.

IN THE HAND

The baseline — steady reach, honest grip.

THE CLAIM

Not one of one, but not for ever either: anyone who has walked a night this season could claim one from the Chalk's shelf while the window was open, and when it closed no more were made. It hangs on every claimant's rack. Carry it or not — the pick is on your profile. See it on the shelf →