The runners bolted at the signal. Their feet pounded the rock, all Serafina’s teenagers galloping through the crevasses. Jeanie with the leg she’d broken summers ago lagged, but her torch was the first to find kindling. The long fronds of a fescue patch ignited.
The jeweler’s house, at the bottom of the incline, boiled like a cauldron. Lonan plaited tough thread and rum-mixed resin through Shay’s sweaty hair, patterning crushed cockle shells in braids away from Shay’s hairline. His fingerwork was tight and precise.
Shay crouched down next to the small fire, mesmerized by feeding wood inside and watching it be eaten at. He showed no sign of moving.
Huh. I realized I usually declare my Nanowrimo project before November as a formality, so here it is for anyone who hasn't heard.
Get hype! Nanowrimo starts next month, and now is the time to start thinking about whether or not you'll participate.
Like with "Black Dragon," I decided to make "Lost and Found" a more fitting cover now that it's on the chopping block.
Valley wind strings birthday graves along the roadside, impossible to tell from the litter and waste.
Here are my top picks for perception-twister, on a scale from "It Messes With You" to "My Brain Is Dripping Out My Ears and I'll Never Feel Safe Again."