“I want this story to hurt you.”
“Aside from the all-new words, I’ve altered most of the details I kept, so even if you read one of these three when I first posted it, I promise you it’ll be fresher than ever”
“I mean creative work that seeks to fill its audience with visceral, abject, unrelenting terror. That’s my horror.”
“The radiant current, creations yet uncreated? You feel it?” Azru asked once, as she rested her hand on the child’s head while they looked out upon a foggy morn. A cool wind coursed over the bogs and tousled their hair. “That is magic, my dear one. You have the Gift.
“The child was born beneath a blood-red moon that scourged a stained-glass sky under midnight like the breaking of the world. The blighted orb’s glow spread as ten thousand smoky tendrils through the latticework seams of–“
“But of course, there is none other to speak for me.
What cowardice would it be to pass my meanings through another’s words? The visions I speak come through…”
“It is just in time for an echo of startling in the nearest silhouette as we round the same corner, and collide with each other.”
“I heard a call through the pigments of things that could be, and have been. It surprised me because it lacked any command. There was no snare, no threat, no bribe either. It was as a doorway left open.”
“In tight-eyed recollection, she told us of a swordmaster named Bodo Haddenwich, and made mention of the peculiar art he practiced. She named this art as ‘Blitzhau'”
“I declare without shame that I am neither a channel of the gods nor a mage of the academies. I am a witch of the old ways reclaimed.”