We’re sitting at a table in another chamber of Tosh’s home which I’m starting to think must be an entire network of caves. The table is a large oak job under a chandelier made of roots wrapped around chunks of polished crystal. Light from above bounces dazzingly through the lumps of quartz. He’s got wovenContinue reading “Running Shoo – Episode 17”
I really want a crossbow, I think it would complete my look, but Tosh hasn’t got one
“Shoo? That’s a nice name, always adored that name,” Tosh’s mandibles arrange themselves into what looks like a smile, though his eyes stay worried
“Wakey wakey, you’re getting flaky,” says a woman’s voice.
I used to daydream about flying. I imagined gliding about Footfall, visiting the fancy districts I’m not allowed into, spiralling all the way up one of the sky needles to touch the underside of the Foot, then wafting across to the North side to see Footfall Falls, the waterfall I’ve heard about but only experiencedContinue reading “Running Shoo – Episode 12”
He talks in a calm, even, almost pleasant manner and every syllable is a knife whittling away at my courage. I’ve got to give him credit, he knows what he’s doing.
The clock ticks. The screen is blank. Your clothes itch. Chores suddenly become urgent. Wait a minute, you don’t have a clock. What’s ticking!? Bomb! You take a chair, hurl it through a window, grab your family, heroically dive to freedom and shelter them with your body while you wait for the blast. Nothing explodes.Continue reading “music for writing about music for writing.”