In the darkest grove of a forest where no light ever shines, the air is always chill, even in August, and no path of root or rock or footfall is ever straight, there is a winding tree. They call it a winding tree, those that say they’ve seen it, because it’s turned like the twist of a rope, spiraling upward like a snake charmer’s trick, toward a blackened sky. But the tree isn’t the thing that interests little Lyn Fuller. Lyn wants to know where the staircase leads. [Read more…] about Following Fortune (part 1)
Ten Barber is a basket of disasters. He falls asleep at inconvenient times, mostly whenever he’s comfortable, but has insomnia that keeps him awake during all the appropriate hours of slumber. He speaks word salad gibberish when he’s *not* nervous, and is barely audible when he is. Worst of all, he continually sees things that are out of place, oddly juxtaposed, or just mismatched and can’t stop himself from trumpeting these observations with crystal clarity. No word salad there. Ten Barber makes friends like a teenager makes love – for five minutes at a time, but as often as you like. Ten is 25-ish – he says 25-ish when anyone asks, because Ten can’t seem to remember specifics about himself or his personal life. He hasn’t got a personal life, as far as he knows. [Read more…] about Blind to the World (part 1)
(collaborative Haunt piece)
Charon could see the dark lady speaking to him, but he couldn’t hear what she said. She stayed ahorse. The pale one again. This time the lady was trimmed in silver on the edge of a deep maroon cloak. It was enough that she was there… and that he was. In the grove.
The book lay open on his lap, his hands on either side of it, holding the pages still. He was watching her lips move. She seemed to know he couldn’t hear, and made a point of smiling at him. It was the obvious intent – to let him know – that made him love her. He didn’t long to stay. This is all there is, he thought. This world is all there is. [Read more…] about Charon’s Crossing (beginning)