“Please forgive us. We had no idea at the time of what was to come. After all, who really can tell what’s the difference between a banishing and a summoning. Who can? Not me. Not us. Not then.”
I’m going to have to remember to light a stick of incense, dig up the corpse of an unholy monster, sacrifice to the gods of the Everdeep or otherwise prostrate …
Working on a romance novel + the edits to Silence in the Chapel. Have submitted “No Love For Emily”. Finished the “Angel” script — have I mentioned Angel? Then there’s that nasty supernatural screenplay
Some people spend New Years Eve alone, some with family, some in celebration with a bunch of raucous strangers. Peregrine Dunn tends to spend his time in an upscale whiskey bar. In a version of L.A. where angels actually do come down to visit on Solstice, this is probably a wise thing.
Oh. “Bring us a figgy pudding; Oh, bring US a figgy pudding; Oh, BRING US a figgy pudding and a cup of good cheer”
There’s a cave I was told about, long time ago. Plenty of people been in it; scrawled on the walls, smoked a little happy puff, played at being adults. Wouldn’t find a person who spent the night though. Reasons.
I feel privileged to have had Shadowpath helped by so many talented people. Thank you to one and all who have been a piece of this!
There are some folks who need a touch more: a Mystery they can pray to, a sacred space they can hide all of their hopes and fears in, a ritual to share that feeling that out there, somewhere, something greater watches over them all. Like the followers of science, the worship of the Mystery is good enough for these folk, good enough for art to flourish and spring out into the world, overwhelming people with awe and emotion for just a time before moving on.