a gurgling prior to dawn story so long without this of a pallid mask balm our singular tag foists on all rain raining down and its long i can only catch sounds from slow unfurl which is good for my dark also into thousandfold ways of grokking soil all still claiming and burnishing only a singular way is so a gray road i soon will prowl
"Once a story-in-progress has thoroughly established itself as SF [e.g. the presence of technology recognizable as such], what single piece of set-dressing might transform it into fantasy? Teresa Nielsen Hayden was once asked this question, and gave the best answer I've heard yet. 'The Holy Grail,' she said." --Patricia Ni*ls*n Hayd*n, intro to Starlight 2 (1998)
"And zig-zagged through the grey-green mountain sage" --Alfr*d Noy*s
Last night beneath the foreign stars I stood And saw the thoughts of those at home go by To the great grave upon the hill of blood. Upon the darkness they went visibly, Each in the vesture of its own distress, Among them there came One, frail as a sigh And like a creature of the wilderness Dug with her bleeding hands. She neither cried Nor wept; nor did she see the many stark And dead that lay unburied at her side. All night she toiled, and at that time of dawn, When Day and Night do change their More and Less And Day is More, I saw the melting Dark Stir to the last, and knew she laboured on."