WIP: SOLOMONS’ CHOICE – Bran Says Hello
This is a a snippet from my upcoming book, Solomon's Choice. If you join the newsletter, you'll not only get tidbits and freebies like this, you'll also get the next…
This is a a snippet from my upcoming book, Solomon's Choice. If you join the newsletter, you'll not only get tidbits and freebies like this, you'll also get the next…
“But how could he guarantee… here you are, with all your free will… things,” I say, waving my hand. “With only Terrance allowed to kill people.” “Yes.” “Then he failed. He completely failed.” Notte sighs. “No. He succeeded.”
A sample from my work-in-progress, Solomon's Choice. Don't forget to join the newsletter for updates! I roll onto my back, marveling again at the lack of weight in my chest.…
Perfect movements, nothing wasted, arching smooth and lunging sharp and landing solid at angles I don’t think human bodies can do, and there are no pauses in their fight, no moments of indecision or rest, and all the while, hypnotic sparks fly overhead like a rainbow shattered. They fight the way music sounds. There is a rhythm, and I want to join the dance.
How that that THING be a person, be a being that thrusts its sentience in my face like a rude too-powerful slap?
It does feel borrowed, like ancient powers I’ve never known know me, and they have come calling my name.
Here I stand in the monument to his beloved gone, alone with the weight of decisions I cannot possibly see the ends of, cannot possibly work out all that will come from my choice, and yet I must make it now.
This smile, this is not a good smile, this is a killing smile with too-wide eyes and too much teeth and more of a snarl than a smile at all.
I am just about to blurt let me go home when the Lord of Night Whispers speaks. “By rights, we should kill you.”
"I am The Mortal’s Doom, and before your mother shed her first infant tears onto the soil of the old world, I was."
I see two Merits, briefly. While the possibilities for such a thing are lovely, it strikes me as wise not to comment on it.
I’ve never seen children among the Mythos before. I know now why we were never allowed to see them.
Story under construction. Tidbit incoming.
It sounds like exaggeration, does it not? I was there, and it is still difficult to credit.
She guided me – taught me, which by design should not have been possible – to never kill children, to avoid the unwisdom of well-armed cities. She taught me, friend, to stop before my prey would die.
I had discovered a state of existence other than hunger, and I wanted more. Tranquility spins a siren-song of its own.
Tiny yearning tugged at me. What would I find, if I could find my way there?
They did not grow old. They never knew illness. They could be injured, but they healed, and they never simply lingered. All this was why Jonathan made no sense.
Just a sample from a new story I'm working on. (Context? What's that?) This was amazing food. All of it was amazing food, Gordon Ramsay worthy, and she had to…
That power. Lips could lie but power could not.
I was in a van with Robin Goodfellow
and some Shadow’s Breath rando, and I had no idea where we were headed.
We carried stories from town to town, transmitting parables like pathogens, connecting people via the thin threads of empathy and imagination who would otherwise never meet.