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The world began to fray the year the twins were born. Summer rolled out all hot and close. Crops wilted in fields that cried for water. The people wore the burden of living like a yoke. They poured their blood into the soil. What grew couldn’t be named or eaten. Famine was a dirty bitch with yellowed fangs, but the hunger she put in a belly bit sharp.
Wild things walked the woods. Their howls could be heard in the dark. The game fled. The people resurrected the dead god and put him back on his cross.
|What I Write||
I’m working on a novella that is due to be completed on August 1. See my website for details.
Miserere: An Autumn Tale (novel)
I need the rough draft of my novella The Broken Road finished by July 5.
To raise some money and have some fun doing it.