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Soren
They would name him Soren. He had already named them. There is a smell that does not belong. Not wrong, exactly. The forest has its catalogue of wrong—the chemical sting of the far road, the dead-metal breath of the machines that roll along it, the acrid ghost of things burned in pipes by the two-legs…
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Whispers from the Margins of Fiction and Reality
First Transmission: What the Writer Really Is. What is fiction, really? We’re taught to think of it as imaginary—a carefully sculpted lie wrapped in truth. But those of us who write, who live among our characters and breathe life into worlds that never were, know otherwise. Every story begins as a spark. A thought. A…