Moments fade, always. We remember so little of our lives, a kind of hazy blur of bricks constructed into a wall of sorts. But here and there, the wall holds windows, flowerboxes, bits of graffiti. The few brilliant moments that stay.
She Walked Out the Door – The Sun
“For some people life is effortless, like running as a child with no sense of the world turning beneath our feet. It is not that way for you. You will always be aware of the weight of your footsteps and the force of will required to move forward.”
Ash and Dust – Strange Horizons
“The alchemy of human lives is a mysterious thing.”
In the Library of Souls – Strange Horizons
“But what of the books? Are they aware within their unmarked bindings? Do they smell the must that the rain brings, do they shiver a little as the water creeps higher, closer, until the stones of the lowest floor sweat beneath my feet?”
Testimony – Fireside Fiction
“There is no vocabulary for things like the threat of losing a best friend when you are not quite eleven. There is only swinging on the old tire your father hung from the oak in the backyard, twirling round and round, while your little brother tries to push you without getting knocked over, tries to comfort you in the silent animal language you share.”
The King’s Huntsman – Giganotosaurus
“A royal right, its violation punishable by the executioner’s axe. But must one live by the rules of the sun if one is a creature of the moon? Or what if one belongs to neither, living instead among those animals who shun both night and day for the slivers of time between the two? Whose right rules those creatures, I ask you?”