Ancestral memories of a sword in the land of Ügyek by Ian Brunner

Staring into the canal and

letting the sound of water lull one into

dreams of the danube. Realities

are separated only by time and location.

Somewhen, in the subconscious the

Turul screeches. Abandoned forts pass

as horses thunder on. Someday,

even this will be lost.

Ancestral memories of a sword in the land of Ügyek.

May we lay claim to a land never seen, never felt. Privileged few

wander the land’s of their forefathers except in

dreams. Every day, every

moment, wars are

fought. The Earth swallows the

dead, but still, sometimes, the

soul’s stories persist.

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I am a writer from Buffalo, NY who is currently residing in Atlanta, GA, and also the short fiction editor for Variety Pack magazine. I have one chapbook published by CWP Press entitled: "Ruminations" and have poetry and fiction published in 14 journals. He can be found @MadRadIan