I’m now working on recording the, uh, saga of Aunt Thompson. You can listen to it on libsyn here.

(I am not linking the story to which it corresponds, because you can scroll back one entry just as well as anyone!)

The podcast, it is late this week! What gives? A NEW JOB, FRIENDS, AND ATTENDANT EXHAUSTION AND NERVES. Fun stuff!

Story no. 48. This one is rapidly becoming far more involved than I intended. Drat. Whatever, I’m running with it. 

Astute fans and observers will notice that I have not yet put up the podcast episode for this week (yes, I know, shame on me, shame shame shame.) That is because I wanted to read this story, such that the podcast listeners can have a continuous experience! So look for that recording later today or tomorrow. 

Illustration to follow. In the meantime, you can read parts one and two of this story.

As always: If you’d like to support this project, I have a Patreon! $1/month gets you art process posts; $3/month gets you extra stories and illustrations.


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The valley grew colder and damper as we followed Aunt Thompson down the path. The gables and spires of the houses in the valley rose ever higher over our heads. I tried to work out if it was just the change in perspective that was making them look like that, or if the houses were actually growing. (That’s the kind of bullshit that houses in Lathustra get up to, anyway.)

The stony path turned into a stony road and then into a slippery cobblestone street that cut its way between dense rows of houses. Down this low, the bricks were blackened with soot or mud or something else equally unpleasant. Bill’s not terribly good with regular physics, and he couldn’t keep his claws beneath him on the slick paving. After he’d fallen for the sixth time, Aunt Thompson picked him up and stuffed him under her arm.

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Story no. 47. Both the story and the illustration are pretty involved this week, which is why they took a while to get up. Pretty happy with the results, though. 

You can purchase a print of this story’s illustration on my Society6 page

If you’d like to support this project, I have a Patreon! $1/month gets you art process posts; $3/month gets you extra stories and illustrations.


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“Hel-lo! We are here to make! You! Over!

John’s head jerked up from the rose bush.

There was no one in front of him.

He wiped a hand across his forehead, creating a little rivulet of sweat that coursed down his temple. The headache that had been growing since the sun swung overhead pulsed at the back of his skull. He slowly twisted his head to one side, and then the other. The smell of slowly-burning flesh caught his nose; he’d sweated off his sunblock.

The rose maze was still empty of people.

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Story no 46. I spent two months (May and June) working on a farm, which included three charming and very goatish goats. They found all the holes in the fences and made some new ones, all in pursuit of snacks.

You can purchase a print of this story’s illustration on my Society6 page

If you’d like to support this project, I have a Patreon! $1/month gets you art process posts; $3/month gets you extra stories and illustrations.

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(You’ve got them all figured out, then,) Khazar said. (Every woman and child has been tagged to a homestead.)

Kazed considered, and Khazar watched a cascade of thoughts flicker across the top of his mind. Clearly not all the displaced had been assigned to new accommodations.

(There’s a problem,) Kazed finally allowed.

Khazar bared his teeth, and Kazed’s already-thin mind voice faltered.

(What sort of problem would that be?)

(There’s a woman—with—)

By accident or providence, a heart-stuttering scream rent the air at that moment.

Both Khazar and Kazed dropped to all fours and dashed toward the noise.

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Hey! I’ve been moving around a lot in the past few weeks — I flew back from the UK on May 2nd, then spent a week with a friend in Boston, then came out to central Massachusetts to work on a farm for a while. The end result being a drop-off in posts and work in general.

However! The podcast continues! This week’s story is “Censorship.” You can listen to it on libsyn or iTunes, or you can read the original story here.

Story no. 45. I have been working with wool a LOT in the last week.

As always, illustration to follow. UPDATE ON July 8th, 2018: Not only is there now an illustration, you can purchase a print on my Society6 page.

A reminder: if you’d like to support this project, I have a Patreon! $1/month gets you art process posts; $3/month gets you extra stories and illustrations.


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The woman was tall, rawboned, with striking red-brown hair pulled into a thick plait. She wore a dress of the spectacular cloth Dominguez had come to the mountains looking for. It glowed in the sunlight glancing down the tiles of the roof, with the same deep sheen and subtle patterns as the delicate shawl which had made its way to the court. Unlike the shawl, it was tattered around the seams and hems, clearly a garment that had been worn long and often.

She stood with her back to Dominguez. Every other minute she threw her right arm up into the air, letting a spindle of dark wood drop from her fingertips, whirling. The thread that kept it from hitting the ground was so fine it was barely visible in the late sun. Before his eyes could do more than trace the glimmer of fiber, she snatched the spindle out of the air and wound thread around it furiously.

Here, then, was the master artisan he sought.

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