Song of Coal | Josie Quinn
She was a servant of death. Her charcoal beak pulled apart corpses, freeing their souls back into the world around them. ...
She was a servant of death. Her charcoal beak pulled apart corpses, freeing their souls back into the world around them. ...
It was a difficult journey with the highways in disrepair, entire sections washed away into the hillside; nothing concrete could be forever. Still, he had to go––for what was left in the calcified highlands behind him was a form of loneliness he could no longer bear.
Medical Notes for Terra Gaia. Occupation: Creator and Sustainer. Age: Unknown. Appears to be around 4.5 billion years old. Not insured.
While it’s a story about change (both sudden and geologic), “Caves” ultimately is a story about our capacities to imagine one another, to imagine a restoration of ourselves and our families and our environment—to imagine the opposite of that and everything we have to lose.
I’m evaporating in your sleep, melting through the seat cushions, and now, just when you thought this feeling meant something.
The moon was an achievement for all of us. It was also a dimly lit, grey place, where revelry was what we made of it.
She glances downstream toward a big evergreen—a white pine, maybe?
Google, find growths that are pale and stringy, that looked like fat hairs the one time he let you see them.
Another week had passed since her hair progressed from green to blue to indigo, and she was sent home to await violet, the final shade.
He would have his clients lie supine on the floor, place them into trance with a combination of murmured incantations ...