I’m on fire! was my first thought. Then — some very stupid part of me bubbled up But look at how pretty the blue edges flicker — and then panic overwhelmed me again as some lizard part of my brain … Continue reading
Along Vera’s neck, on either side, are three round bits of grillwork, and when she comes in hard and fast, they scream, a whine that grates along all your nerves, even when you’ve heard it before. They screamed now, and … Continue reading
I’d been feeling queazy for miles — too much fresh fruit last town, trying to pack in as much as I could — so finally I tapped Roto on the shoulder and we left the bus during a stretch and pee break. Big Fredo was driving the tents truck and he had a sweet spot for Roto, so he let us climb up into the sheltered spot just behind the cab, where we were sheltered from the wind but still could feel the bite of the air and where, if I needed to, I could lean out and vomit into the sandy gravel of the road.
Synopsis: Stella’s life is on the unusual side, but whose isn’t nowadays, half a century after the Fall that led to this ruined landscape with its mesh of mythology and machinery? Still, being brought up as part of a troupe of circus performers wandering along the coast of the Inner Sea, going from small village to small village, sets her apart from many.
Another teaser from a steampunk short story I’ve been working. My codename for this world is Altered America, and this is the fifth short story I’ve placed in it.
Here’s a modern piece I’m working on right now, “Someday My Prince.” I believe it’s fantasy; I’m about 2000 words in so far, and really not sure whether it’ll stretch another 500 or 5000 words.
This story’s still deciding whether it’s a comedy or a tragedy. I suspect a little of both. When he realized how upset his wife was, George wondered if he might have miscalculated. Normally a quiet and loving partner, she was … Continue reading
I’m working on the sequel to recently-finished Beasts of Tabat, whose working title is Hearts of Tabat. Here’s a snippet I wrote this morning.
Adelina did something she’d mocked other people for doing. She consulted a Dream Reader.
Everyone sensible knew that Dream Readers were frauds, making up stories to suit the needs they could read in their clients. Everyone’s dreams were as individual as their minds, everyone had their own internal cartography leading to entirely different parts of their brains.
But the dream had come three mornings in a row. Three mornings when she woke up with a start, fear clamping its fingers, slender as reeds, strong as iron, around her throat, her hands clenched so hard that her nails bit into the heels of her hands.
Was fiddling this for a writing retreat I’m doing in September. This is from the beginning.
I’ve just started roughing out a new story, “A New Board is Elected at Villa Encantada”. I’ve written several Villa Encantada stories now, including “Eagle-Haunted Lake Sammammish,” “Events at Villa Encantada,” and “The Threadbare Magician.” In this one I’m trying for dark and funny, and thinking it will end at 4-6k words.