It’s apparently been since the last epic Twitter panic that I came around these parts, so bear with me as I try to find my footing again. Hello! I’m Sebastian! Occasionally, I write. Frequently, I am ridiculous. Constantly, I am in need of a good night’s sleep. Nice to see you all, and I hope to get myself fitting in here without too much stupidity on my part. Hope springs eternal!
Ari recognized nothing, but didn’t want to cause offense so he took a little of each, watching the others at the table before he used his fingers for the various meats and rice, and a clay spoon for the grey paste which reminded him of potato but more sour. The fish and onion was acidic, but was good with the rice. The leaf-wrapped meat fell apart in his fingers and he found himself reaching for more of everything, even though he had little idea what exactly he was eating.
Recently learned that there's a group of architecture students at one of the state universities that's planning a way to turn an abandoned mall into a "town" for dementia care. How cool would that be? A totally enclosed space, so no one could wander off and get scary-lost, but that would let people still do things like go to the grocery store, hairdresser, library, etc. when they want.
All four of my grandparents had memory issues. It would've been really nice if they'd been able to live in a place like that, rather than a nursing home.
A pause, and then Comfort says, "Watch out for the crows. Don't listen to them. All their whispers are lies tonight."
Ophelia, having read a great number of books in her lifetime, immediately realized what they were looking at. "It's a secret door."
Juliet snorted. "It's not very secret. You can see the hinges right here."
"And a doorknob."
"A secret doorknob."
So I'm writing a murder/ghost/weirdo series on Patreon, and this is the latest bit of it, which I'm tossing up here for FREEEEE! You know, in case you guys are interested, you know?
I note that my better pieces from last year, "A Plague of Lucy", "The Flanner" and "Plastic Dreams of Conditional Me" were based on random prompts from different generators. So maybe that's a good approach?
All three stories are free on my site if you haven't read them, by the way.
A little free something just because it's almost the new year and stuff. https://www.patreon.com/posts/language-of-16118532
He closes his eyes, and without effort recalls every detail that makes up the whole of her in his mind. The space between her nearly-closed lips where whispers of satin ice slip through and caress the side on his neck. The frost smoke of her skin where the chill of her presses near to the heat of him. The sweet-water taste of her when she commands that he kiss her there, and there, and there.
"Five years ago, the winds were calm, and the clouds were thick as drunken midnight whispers. Mirabel had taken him to her bed, and they’d stayed there for three days, putting scratches on his back, bruises on her thighs, and creating an ever-growing chill that layered frost on the face of the mirror over her dresser.
When he finally left, the blizzard they’d birthed together lasted a week, and buried the lakeside under seven feet of snow.
Thanks to my patrons you can read four parts of my ongoing serial on my Patreon page.
Writer, lunatic, gadfly. Adorable and snarky. Possibly made of cheese.
The Wandering Shop is a Mastodon instance initially geared for the science fiction and fantasy community but open to anyone. We want our 'local' timeline to have the feel of a coffee shop at a good convention: tables full of friendly conversation on a wide variety of topics. We welcome everyone who wants to participate, so long as you're willing to abide by our code of conduct.