Chapters (31)
- Cover
- breakable things
- advance praise for “breakable things”
- also by cassandra khaw
- Dedication
- don’t turn on the lights
- a leash of foxes, their stories like barter
- radio werewolf
- recite her the names of pain
- kiss, don’t tell
- an ocean of eyes
- the truth that lies under skin and meat
- mothers, we dream
- how selkies are made
- a secret of devils
- goddess, worm
- a priest of vast and distant places
- the games we play
- for the things we never said
- she who hungers, she who waits
- monologue by an unnamed mage, recorded at the brink of the end
- you do nothing but freefall
- the ghost stories we tell around photon fires
- the quiet like a homecoming
- and in our daughters, we find a voice
- in the rustle of pages
- bargains by the slant-light
- some breakable things
- publication history
- acknowledgements
- about the author
“No strings,” said the devil. His teeth gleamed like piano keys.
And the woman said “If you’re really the devil, you’re also the father of lies. How can I believe someone like you?”
The devil, who had a voice like the blues, all smoke and rich, red wine decanted into polished glass, he said: “Because I gave up heaven for the love of monkeys like you. But there’s not enough love to spare these days and I hate to see your lives go to waste. Besides, the bible’s crammed with lies. God said to love your neighbour, but then men swaggered in and said you should hate them too. You know what that’s like, don’t you? Double standards and double-crossing saints.”
She laughed. Her voice was dark and golden, like the C string on a cello, the sound of earth moving in concert with the stars. It wasn’t an innocent laugh, though. Nothing naive. There was jags of glass broken in its undercurrents, giddy as a sip of absinthe, and for a moment, the devil loved her best.
“So, what can I get ya, darling?” he said, meaning every note. “You’ve got the world on a plate.”
The woman drew a breath in and closed her eyes, and the world stopped to listen to what she had to say next. “Well, in that case: you go give my wish to someone who hasn’t been broken yet. Give them a way to save themselves from the god of this wretched place.”
“Don’t you want that saving yourself?”
“I’ve got kids that gotta learn what happens when someone doesn’t come to save the day. When they see their momma taking alms, they won’t understand what it means when I tell them that all they need is their own two feet. So, you do that for me. You take that wish of mine and you give it to someone else.”
And the devil laughed and said he would, which is how we got to this part of the tale:
Here you go. A wish that can set the world on fire, or make the sky bleed cinnamon; a wish that’d change you, change the heart of that boy you thought you loved; a wish that’d bring your papa home, or make sure no one ever gets hurt again. A wish that the devil almost gave to a woman who’d never had enough, a woman bigger than the shrivelled heart of the world who gave birth to her shining soul.
One wish.
What do ya wanna do, my friend?
goddess, worm
Three lies:
One: Silence is permission; quiescence, acceptance; yes is yes means always yes.