Chapter 7: A Fat Guy Tries to Bite Horace.

Monday morning broke. For the first few peaceful moments, it was beautiful. Sunshine, the rich and welcoming light of dawn peeking across the valley, setting the hilltops ablaze. Green trees swaying in the breeze, and the soft low buzz of life in full swing outside. The blissful amnesia of sleep left my mind free to worry about minor, silly things. Where’s Betty? Where’s Li? What am I going to make them for dinner today?

Continue reading “Chapter 7: A Fat Guy Tries to Bite Horace.”

Chapter 5: Ku’s Dad Makes a Deal

I studied the holy geometers. Triangle for violence, the sharp points of a tooth. Quadrangle for stability, the flat sides of a brick. Pentangle for magical power, the fingers of the hand, the basis of all manipulation. Hexangle for resilience, the six sides of the scale. And the circle. I paused over that for a moment. The circle, which could have countless angles, or only one; the symbol of ambiguity. Of divinity constrained. Both infinite, and utterly limited. The order mattered. For this, more than so many other things.

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Chapter 2: Horace Gets A Job.

The Ford Thunderbird was deceptively roomy. Not so roomy that Ku could fit in the front with me. Just roomy enough that, sprawled out, her hair acting like an impromptu blanket, she could stretch out across the leather interior of the back seat, hair preventing her rough skin from slashing open the seats. The car didn’t even ride low with her there, a testament to the fine engineering, and the fact that the damn thing was built out of two tons of stainless steel. That would mean that paying for gas would be a bitch. Here I’d been complaining about SUVs for most of my adult life, and this thing would probably make them look sensible and affordable by comparison.

Continue reading “Chapter 2: Horace Gets A Job.”