The crib was one of those kit builds. Just twelve pieces total and all the hardware was included. Even so, John struggled with it.
He chewed a bit harder on his pencil, suddenly lost in the heat of his most recent memories of her. The smell of sweat, those terrible motel sheets, her soft dark skin.
After they finished killing God, they turned to the planet and then finally upon themselves. Turning from all that they were, they receded into a new violent ignorance. They no longer outshone the heavens. The fire faded. They froze to death.
For this task I knew it would be hard to pick a writing partner. I’m going to be writing multiple pieces with only the genre of horror and the theme of myth connecting them. No one miniature would do. Some tasks need an army. This one needed two.
I wasn’t aware how much publishers rely on self promotion these days and I’ve spent the last 10 years working on my storytelling. I never learned how to sell my own works.