On the first night of summer, you hear the coyotes speak.
Something like concept art; something like a portfolio. Old drafts, excerpts, and character studies from the creation of the Blackwater series.
Content warning for body horror, graphic depictions of sexuality and substance abuse, profanity, and general nonsense involving magic, science, and exploration.
Mile after mile of blacktop spools off beside a field that is sprouting the beginnings of ice. She reminds herself that cold and fear are temporary things. She tells herself that it is the twenty-first of November; she tells herself that she is going home . . . [ READ ]
“He found life,” she said suddenly. Her words were a dim roar. “A shapeshifter. A wanderer, who returns to the salt again and again. He forgave me.” She looked blithely at him; her copper eyes and beaked face spoke silently of Nester. “A ghost’s life is no life at all. He said he would restore me to what I was . . . ” [ READ ]
© 2019 Justine Rosenberg