Fans of Ian F. Svenonius, take note: Ian is embarking on a nationwide tour to promote Censorship Now!!
During the night the winter storm veered north and it changed everything. The winds in the Gulf of Alaska dropped from 72 to 23 knots and the battering ninety foot seas began to settle into marbled hills of white, green and grey. A couple hours after dawn, the sun peeked out and it began to snow. American flag snapping in the wind, our ship shouldered her way into an arctic high pressure system the combined size of California, Nevada and Utah . . .
Marlowe felt his life crumbling around him. He had recently been called before the Privy Counsel, a combination grand jury, federal prosecutor and Supreme Court. His friend and roommate, the playwright Thomas Kyd, had been arrested for treason . . .
Soaking rain had stopped, typical of an August afternoon. It hadn’t cooled things off, only made the air more steamy and humid . . .
“J’Ouvert morning is when the angels and demons dance,” PaPa had said. His words were on a loop in Viv’s head as she made her way through the crowds on Back Street in Kingstown. Daylight had caught the night, melting dark tendrils until they turned grey . . .
Cold permeated. I’d been shaking uncontrollably, teeth rattling, for the better part of an hour; every time I’d try to make myself stop, the shaking would multiply by an exponent and my mind would wander off somewhere else . . .
Daryl pressed my back against the cold iron railing on the crumbling steps beside the Shelton Auto Body. His kiss was even colder, but only because he was in a rush . . .
When the sun sets, the dogs come out in Tikiwin. You can’t hear them, not at first . . .