“As well as any knocking against the void. He suffers. He yearns.”
Author: joanspilman
Former teacher, writer of Appalachian Literature, short stories, and fantasy. Current publication, "This Will Never Stop" see Kirkus Reviews, Vol. LXXXXVII, NO. 22 Nov. 15, 2019. Also featured on booktrib, and Booklife. Has published a YA entitled "Sansablatt Head", and books for children under the general title of "The Waddling Dead". Received MFA from Wichita State University where she received the fellowship. Published in Southern Humanities Review, Short Story International, Carriage House Review,Willow Springs, Laurel Review and other literary magazines. Winner of George Garrett Prize for Best Prose, W.WashingtonU. Winner of Microkosmos Fiction Award, WSU. Winner of John Maier Award at Marshall University.
This Textured Darkness, #12
“I’m my father’s son,” the King replied. “if that’s what you mean.”
This Textured Darkness, #11
“Your father’s soul is at stake.”
This Textured Darkness, #10
A plague entered Casoria, and there weren’t enough men to sweep the dead from the streets.
This Textured Darkness, #9
The King’s corpse lay in the open until nightfall when it was gathered with the rest.
This Textured Darkness, #8
The white rock was now gray, splashes of Tianne’s tears in stark relief.
This Textured Darkness, #7
In accordance with the clomping of the horses’ hooves, the farmer breathed, “Pigs . . pigs.”
This Textured Darkness, #6
The stranger was of slight build and indeterminate years, clad simply in a blue robe.
Blanche Shaw, at the Edge
Blanche draws me by her very diffidence. She stands apart, looking unhappy and confused.
This Textured Darkness, #5
“In the meantime, spare us this Nevers nonsense,” said Fulcruchen to Anjhest. “There’s no such thing as a Twinning Road.” “We shall see,” said Rand, plugging the… Read more “This Textured Darkness, #5”
