Travelogues
by Ori Fienberg
There was the sound of something chewing at the plow, and then, with a heave, the rough gleam appeared atop the soil with a vein of whitish-yellow porcelain beneath. The farmer gathered the dull uncut gems in a pouch to bring to town.
Some folk had heard of planting teeth in the ground, and they awaited the rise of legions of warriors. But instead when he returned the farmer found a sheer white cliff protruding from the gums of the earth. The farmer roped it off, since he reasoned, wherever stands a wall of teeth, it will not be long till someone tries to break them.
Travelers guided by mindful winds brought word of olives with golden pits and trees with beating hearts. In turn the farmer showed them the town’s teeth, till with time the wind and stories stopped, and the cliff crumbled back into the field.
Ori Fienberg is a recent graduate of the Nonfiction Writing Program at the University of Iowa. He is also captain and founder of the NWP Bowling Kings in the Lone Tree Men’s league. He has had work accepted in 2 River View, the Diagram, [and] Subtropics, to name a few.
