2025-12-22

sovay: (Lord Peter Wimsey: passion)
Since the light is officially supposed to have returned in my hemisphere, it is pleasing that my morning has been filled with the quartz-flood of winter sun. I could not get any kind of identifying look at the weird ducks clustered on their mirror-blue thread of the Mystic as I drove past, but I saw black, blue, buff, white, russet, green, and one upturned tail with traffic-cone feet.

On the front of ghost stories for winter, Afterlives: The Year's Best Death Fiction 2024, edited by Sheree Renée Thomas, is now digitally available from Psychopomp. Nephthys of the kite-winged darkness presides over its contents, which include my queer maritime ice-dream "Twice Every Day Returning." It's free to subscribers of The Deadlands and worth a coin or two on the eyes of the rest.

For the solstice itself, I finally managed to write about a short and even seasonal film-object and made latkes with my parents. [personal profile] spatch and I lit the last night's candle for the future. All these last months have been a very rough turn toward winter. I have to believe that I will be able to believe in one.
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