Here are my projects for the month:
Naxos: The Ford died with a hiccup and a puff of smoke three miles out of Naxos, Wisconsin. I looked over at Ari in the passenger seat, she looked and me, and we said oh shit pretty much simultaneously.
The Prince of Skyrats: Skyrats swarmed in the gallows-yard the day their prince was hanged, both the gray and dull-eyed birds whose wings fluttered like tattered bits of rag, and the other kind, who were also gray and dull-eyed and ragged. The guards watched them warily, from a distance. The Prince of Skyrats did not see them at all; a black silk blindfold covered his face, leaving him blind and voiceless.
The Bluebeard Room: "No," said Evangline Leighton, "I would not open that door for all the jewels in the Tower of London."
Madam Pneuma: Mrs. Barlow stabbed a needle through the fabric, heedless of the danger to the black velvet of her skirt. “I still don’t understand it,” she said, ostensibly to the room at large, though her gray eyes never moved from mine.
Embers: It was a burning day.
Sixty-Four: [None yet.]
Oxymandias: [None yet.]
Four Burning Things: Mama Babel sets the coffee pot on the fire, stirring it with her bayonet to keep the gritty stuff from burning.
The Widow's Island: You will wake to the sound of singing.
Jaquemart: There was blood on the stage.
The Setting Sun: The night before she died, I dreamed of Sephone.
The Celebrated Carousel of the Margravine of Blois: [See pictures here.] The house is called Summerfall, and it stands at the end of a long white drive lined with plane trees and elm.
The Kindness of Ravens: On your first day in the desert, they will bring you food.
Wish me luck!
Friday, November 06, 2009
thanks for post
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