It came down the basement stairs, muscled flank gleaming in the fluorescence, each step a drumbeat accentuated by the little boy's maraca lungs.
This essay began with a remark I found in an interview.
If you wanted to scuff up your uniform, I'd lend you the scissors / And we could be Theseus and Ariadne, no clue or clew to navigate
In this episode of the Strange Horizons podcast, editor Anaea Lay presents Kurt Hunt's "Tigerskin."
