So exited to be part of this project by @whisperedintherain.bsky.social!
Two ghost stories. Two unforgettable voices from beyond.
💀 We Don't Talk About That by Ken Carlson
🕊️ Even Death by Christine Lucas
🎧 Available May 16th for Patrons
🌧️ Public release: May 23rd
Rainbow filter over a three-part collage made from portraits of Michelangelo, Machiavelli, and the Raphael portrait of Duchess Elizabetta Gonzaga
LGBTQIA+ As we resist those who claim diversity distorts scholarship, let’s run through the acronym & show how easy it is to find the rainbow in every era. We don’t even need to look beyond the Renaissance celebrities that are household names ! 1/?
(Countdown to Inventing the Renaissance)
Preorder campaign for Sour Cherry: 25% Off with Code CHERRY through Feb 14. Tertulia, The New Co-op Bookstore for Avid Readers.
If you've been thinking about preordering Sour Cherry, now is your chance to get it discounted through an indie bookstore.
Preorders are the best way to support authors, so THANK YOU, and I hope you enjoy the book when it comes out @tinhouse.bsky.social in April!
tertulia.com/book/sour-ch...
Poem by Caitlin Seida. 17. Hope Is Not a Bird, Emily, It's a Sewer Rat Hope is not the thing with feathers That comes home to roost When you need it most. Hope is an ugly thing With teeth and claws and Patchy fur that's seen some shit. It's what thrives in the discards And survives in the ugliest parts of our world, Able to find a way to go on When nothing else can even find a way in. It's the gritty, nasty little carrier of such diseases as Optimism, persistence, Perseverance and joy, Transmissible as it drags its tail across your path and Bites you in the ass. Hope is not some delicate, beautiful bird, Emily. It's a lowly little sewer rat That snorts pesticides like they were Lines of coke and still Shows up on time to work the next day Looking no worse for wear.
In case you need it like I do.
For You Who Are About to Give Up Think of what you'll miss: the voices of children; apples, dark wine on a table; the smell of the spring before you're ready. Stay. It doesn't get better, it gets truer. Winter. Albums. Madness. Your grief in you like a cello in its locked, black case. The lemon-scent of someone who has gone. Breathe. Just breathe and be here. In my darkest night, in the storm before morning, I heard a voice that told me it was listening. Friend, I would sit with you and listen. As long as you have breath you could be song. As long as you have breath you could be song. —Joseph Fasano
I hope this finds you.
New office layout, same fluffy jerk.
New flash this Halloween Eve from @flashfictiononline.bsky.social 's WEIRD HORROR issue! What if you could harvest plants and fungi from the dead? What if the dead were your own family? What garden would they make? Devastating and dark story by @christinwrites.bsky.social
