Unspooling the Light

After a few airplanes thrummed overhead he glanced up at the flock of crows … no …

at myriad miniature figures, suspended from white canopies, descending silently. ‘Like poisonous spore from a diabolical god’, the village schoolmaster said later.

Ianou’s grandfather had run, shouting, waving his arms. Cretan farmers grabbed what they could: knives, axes, and scythes and barrelled over the fields to destroy the enemy.