The Valley, 1989

The Valley

The Valley (Page 4)
by William Burroughs
then the current caught it, wafted it upwards, further and further, almost up to the vast overhangs now, as the scales of the fish and snakes and lizards caught the late sun and sparkled with iridescent lights, for the valley was already in shadow.

A powerful updraft from the darkening valley, up, up, riding the wind like a vulture… then one wing tore loose and the craft dipped and veered. The other wing broke against the top of the cliff and the boy plummeted down, trailing gossamer rags of the torn fuselage, down, down into the darkness.

That was many years ago. How many no one knows. There is no point in keeping any sort of time here. Only the old men remember, and no one knows how old the old men are. No one has tried to build such a craft since.