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I am again surprised and still feel humbled that you lovely people out there are reading my blogs and visiting my group. Over 2,000 now...thank you so very much, I do appreciate you all. Should you have a suggestion on what you would like to read, please feel free to let me know... with much Love to all of You...Liz
Alexander kept his hands tucked deep into the pockets of his work coat, as if hiding them from the room. His knuckles still bore faint dust from the excavation site, a chalky red that never let him forget where he’d pulled the pod samples from. He watched Elizabeth and Thaddeus moving around the long steel table, every tool and meter lined up in precise rows. The workshop smelled of hot metal a…
Alexander had never liked the forest on the north ridge. It was too quiet, the kind of quiet that seemed deliberate, like the world was holding its breath. The trees here were long and thin, bark a pale gray that flaked under the slightest touch, as if they were pretending to be trees and not quite managing it. The air smelled faintly of ozone and damp stone. No birds. No insects. Only the wind,…
The first cold wind of autumn came curling down from the hills the morning we went to the orphanage, sharp enough to make the banners along the Avenue of Makers snap and dance. The sky over Ar was that particular pale blue I’ve loved since childhood—clear, brittle, and edged with the promise of winter. Perfect weather, I thought, for reminding people that warmth was slipping away and sickness wo…
I’ve learned that the smell of fear is not so different from the smell of infection: sharp, acrid, impossible to ignore once you know what you’re searching for. Today, I went searching for moss. The moss from the northern falls of Ar is more potent than anything I can find in the markets—the damp-stone variety that grows in halo-green patches behind the spray, rich with whatever mineral runs…
Elizabeth paused at the bottom of the stone steps, the last of the afternoon light washing the street in a warm, amber haze. Ar’s western sky burned with streaks of gold and rose, the towers and high bridges cutting dark silhouettes against it. The air carried the familiar scent of the lower terraces—baked brick, simmering stew, dust that had spent the day warming under the sun and was now final…