Grand raises her head. Her eyes seem brighter than usual. “You can’t know. Not unless you go through something like that yourself. And I fervently wish each and every day that no one I love will ever experience anything approaching those years. Although one can’t control history, now can one?”
What they don’t tell you when you sign up is that the work takes a certain amount of trust.
The Organization of Strange Phenomenon Ancient and Modern was paying for everything, including the tiny, expensive bottle of Coke resting damply in her right hand.
We’d heard about the Gondolas, but most of us hadn’t believed they existed. Not in America anyway, and certainly not made by the South. Reconstruction had ended the year before, and everyone knew the South was bankrupt. How it could afford not one, not two, but several fleets of Gondolas stretched the imagination.
He woke up thinking of the difference between the smiling girl in his dreams and the dead woman on the walkway, her skin cold against his fingertips.
She whirled so fast that she made herself dizzy, narrowly getting out of the way of a tentacle.
First, let me say, I hated Little Women. Oh my God. Awful. And—Spoiler Alert!—by the time Beth died, seriously? I was ready to kill her myself.
The hanging judge walked by, flanked by four gigantic bodyguards in full body armor, dark and black and intimidating. Somehow she didn’t get lost in the middle of them…
The unicorn pranced toward me, its head lifted, its tail up, as if it were coming toward someone it knew and loved.
There are three parts to me now. The old, remembered part, which doesn’t have a voice. It stands back and watches, appalled, at everything that happens, everything I do.
VISIT AUTHOR: 
SHOP AUTHOR: 
TIP AUTHOR: