Monsters and flowers aren’t much different. Sometimes they are hard to tell apart—but a good florist knows what to look for.
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There are countless things she would rather be doing. On a night like this, when the blue moon is full and bursting with light like summer fruit, she wants nothing more than to bathe in the moon water that now floods the riverbanks. She wants to sing poorly with no judgment, wearing nothing but the night sky.
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Animals began telling stories of Silver Nose’s nightly journeys and his signal fires. It did not take long for others to start calling him Flame Fox. A being who was black as night during the day and who set fires on fells as the rest of the world was fast asleep.
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A helpful introduction to making magic easy and repeatable in your everyday life.
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Among the tales of sorrow and of ruin that came down to us from the darkness of those days there are yet some in which amid weeping there is joy and under the shadow of death light that endures. And of these histories most fair still in the ears of the Elves is the tale of Beren and Lúthien.
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If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world.
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“How in hell is anybody supposed to help you if you won’t ask?” Because asking is dangerous, I could tell her. Because to ask is to hope that someone answers, and it hurts so bad when nobody does.
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Never trust a writer who doesn’t have too many books to read. Or a reader, for that matter.
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Live long enough, you realize some folks can be handed a problem and some tools, and they’ll sort it out. And I never think twice about hiring that sort of fellow.
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You made a haunted house out of your own flesh and bones.
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A dark fiction anthology by indigenous writers.
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The city in the south would go the way of limestone, crumbling into the desert until nothing was left but an archaeological layer of dark gray ash and sorrow.
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Fear is generous and does not exclusively live in the hearts of mortals.
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Can you imagine the colonized fighting on behalf of the colonizer to protect the colonizer from being colonized?
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No woman should be made to fear that she was not enough.
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The unsaid thing about funerals is that directly after the communal mourning for someone you love, after everyone is gone and the connected grief dispersed, comes a solitude beyond imagining. A great, gaping nothing where a whole person and life and future used to be. The other side of a funeral is abyss.
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Because broken hearts strip vocabularies down to their raw bones…
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When Kyra makes all the males disappear, she must choose her sister who hates her or the man who loves her.
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“Grief can change a person to the point where they become someone they don’t know, or even like very much. I don’t want that to happen to you.”
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And that is why the world has Holy Grails - not because the world needs Holy Grails, but because the world needs heroes.
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