“The lie lay between them, there in the double bed beneath a red Maasai blanket, beneath the canvas ceiling, beneath the African moon dissolving into dawn. Outside, a lion prowled the tall grass roaring impatiently for his huntresses. The ground trembled from elephants steered by memories passed on by those who had passed by before. A go-away bird’s cry sounded like a petulant child. Robert listened to the Serengeti awaken, knowing that Sylvie was listening, too, wishing he could reach across and pull her to him if not for the divide grown wide by the truth behind the lie.” So begins “A Pale Chanting.” Read my newest short story at SNReview. Click here for a downloadable PDF version.