Untitled Tea Making myself, and burning bone to cast china cups, drinking the tea for the love of it. Scrawling messages in pale clay for under- neath the mulch of leaves. Even if it’s only I who will read my future at the end of it. (Thanks to the Ben Zabbia Band for inspiration.) […]
November 9, 2011
by Paul McLaughlan
‘You enjoy telling that one I can tell.’ I claimed. ‘Well of course I do, you should only tell those stories you’d like to hear and how you’d like to hear them! Let me hear no accusations of self-indulgence, if I cackle heartily with my telling, it is my time, and worthy spent. I can […]
November 9, 2011
by Kandace Mavrick
I am off writing query letters today. Yes, I totally am. Shut up. I’m totally doing it. Right now. Okay, not right now. But like, in a minute. And in the meantime I am going to leave you with some things to entertain you. In case you haven’t heard (although if you’re remotely interested you […]
November 8, 2011
by Paul McLaughlan
4 ‘So what did you speak of?’ I asked. Later that day. ‘To my brother’s daughter, the future kingdom’s keeper?’ He asked. ‘Yes.’ I blushed. He smiled. ‘Do not answer me with such down-castness boy. ‘Did we speak of you?’ You must ask. And yes, we did so.’ ‘Then what did you say?’ Tell me! […]
November 8, 2011
by Kandace Mavrick
I just had an ‘Oh‘ moment. You know what they are. That second when you suddenly put two and two together and reach such a blindly obvious four you wonder how you could possibly not have noticed it before. There’s a storyline I’ve been playing around with in the back of my mind for a […]
November 7, 2011
by Paul McLaughlan
A coach came, flourishing the dust from the ground. Our feet, and the horses hooves, had been too few enough to let our passing escape a dust-cloud’s notice. And the farmers here, surrounding, would never have paid that road much notice, not while the summer’s Sun, responsible for these dry-banks—where winter would make us a […]
November 7, 2011
by Kandace Mavrick
So this. Which claims some high schoolers like to soak gummi bears in vodka in order to get drunk in class. I’m not entirely sure how this appeared on my radar. Perhaps someone just wanted to share the weird. Perhaps someone thought bears + alcohol = kandace. Which… okay. But… Me: That’s crazy. I mean, […]
November 4, 2011
by Paul McLaughlan
‘My father,’ to laugh at this. ‘He is an instrument maker. Though sometimes, when pressed he sung to people, out-with his tune.” ‘Badly I take it?’ He made me feel as a small child wandering down lost, narrow roads. And forever would—he made me mapless. ‘No. Not really. He taught me to sing.’ ‘And you […]
November 10, 2011
by Paul McLaughlan
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