As If This Was Going to Work As If This Was Going to Work By Megan Cutler | June 10, 2016 | Comments 0 Comment He was accustomed to the darkness, to its tranquility. But he didn’t allow himself to be lulled by the light tapping of tree branches against the windows, or the subtle hiss of wind through the chimney. As he waited in the darkness of his familiar living room, he waited for one sound, an inevitable pattern … Read More Read More
It’s Crunch Time! It’s Crunch Time! By Megan Cutler | May 30, 2016 | Comments 1 comment Believe it or not, I haven’t taken a break from blogging all year. (What?!) But summer is approaching and, now that we live in beautiful British Columbia, that means everyone wants to come and visit us. (Or our awesome mountains, lakes and weather. Same thing, right?) That means I have to make the last big … Read More Read More
How They Relate to Their Race Revisited How They Relate to Their Race Revisited By Megan Cutler | May 27, 2016 | Comments 0 Comment There was something visceral about writing with pen and paper. It might have been the elegant swoop of her hand as she formed each letter. It might have been the satisfying scratch of the pen as it deposited its ink. But it might have had a lot to do with the warm, comfortable armchair and … Read More Read More
Please Stop Petting the Test Subjects Please Stop Petting the Test Subjects By Megan Cutler | May 20, 2016 | Comments 2 comments Ves had only met the regressive Arcturan a couple days ago, yet she had already planned for her a whole new wardrobe. Something that would complement the hint blue in the greyish cast of her skin. Like so many of Ves’s fashion projects, it began with corsets. She didn’t think Giana would accept all of … Read More Read More
He Crossed the Brittle Bridge of Bones He Crossed the Brittle Bridge of Bones By Megan Cutler | May 13, 2016 | Comments 0 Comment It was cold. Colder than the whipping winter winds atop the jagged peaks of the world’s highest mountain range. Colder than death. The chill did not touch him. But as Azmih watched, his companion jolted awake, shivering violently against the frigid air. His head whipped from side to side, long black hair smacking his neck … Read More Read More
Images Are Blurred Images Are Blurred By Megan Cutler | May 6, 2016 | Comments 2 comments Please check the bottom of this post for an exciting announcement! . . . “You can put a stop to this.” She could barely hear the words over the pounding in her ears. Her own personal drum, beating the rhythm of her doom. While the respite lasted she could do nothing but gulp great gasps … Read More Read More
Characters Go Out Together Characters Go Out Together By Megan Cutler | April 29, 2016 | Comments 0 Comment “It was a dark and stormy night.” Balancing the electric torch in one hand, Dormal illuminated his face while he wriggled the fingers of his free hand. He had perfected the ‘spooky’ voice in his teenage years, but his brother didn’t seem impressed. “Kind of cliché, isn’t it?” His brother arched an eyebrow, a teasing … Read More Read More
Can You See Yourself For What You Are? Can You See Yourself For What You Are? By Megan Cutler | April 22, 2016 | Comments 1 comment The lash of the whip summoned a high-pitched wail, not quite human, not quite feline. Each cry pierced deeper until the screams tore through his core. It hurt more than if the punishing blows had fallen against his flesh. He strained once more against his bonds. Sharp metal scraped against barely healed wounds. He ignored … Read More Read More
They Return Every Year to Lay Flowers on the Spot They Return Every Year to Lay Flowers on the Spot By Megan Cutler | April 15, 2016 | Comments 3 comments The villagers returned every year to spread flowers across the bog. A riot of pinks and blues, purples and yellows, even shocks of pristine white sprinkled like snow for one glorious afternoon before they were left to wilt in the mud. Then they returned to their festivals and dances, their stories and feasts, hoping against … Read More Read More
In Dreams In Dreams By Megan Cutler | April 8, 2016 | Comments 1 comment They came to her in dreams. Names and voices, images and events. Without context, they flooded the quiet hours of the night, leaving her to sort through them in the morning. To find meaning and act upon it. Just last night, a young man with hazy features attending her court spoke the title ‘mother’ in … Read More Read More