Chapters (18)
- Banishments
- Fragile Masks
- Neithernor
- Deep Eden
- The Patter of Tiny Feet
- The Rasping Absence
- Scold’s Bridle: A Cruelty
- Crawlspace Oracle
- After the Final
- The Sullied Pane
- Cast Lots
- Notes on the Aztec Death Whistle
- Headsman’s Trust: A Murder Ballad
- Chain of Empathy
- Three Knocks on a Buried Door
- Ten of Swords: Ruin
- Publication History
- About the Author
Forearmed with this knowledge, I hope you might appreciate the dazed reaction I experienced when, on assignment, I came upon her name in conjunction with a tiny art gallery on the outskirts of the city.
“Yes, they’re very interesting, aren’t they? Very interesting indeed. They’re made by a local woman; each piece is done by hand and each is one-of-a-kind.” This was the voice of the older man who was perched behind the tiny counter. His was the physique of an overfed pigeon and his eyes were large and rheumy. The wooden stool that braced him groaned woefully each time he fidgeted, which was often. His teeth were the grey of cooked mushrooms and they shimmered with saliva when he smiled, which, thankfully, he did but once.
“Unique,” I said, hoping that the proprietor would retort with something like ‘Oh, yes, very unique’ or ‘truly unique’ so that I could then correct him by saying that the word ‘unique’ implicitly means something singular and without equal and thus requires no modifiers to enhance it. I enjoy giving these sorts of lessons to my public. Language is so very important, dying though it may be.
But the droopy man’s only response was a wet-sounding sneeze. I moved further down the gallery’s aisle, pausing to study an especially complex and delicate-looking piece that sat beneath the smudgy glass of a display case.
“That the carousel you’re looking at?” the proprietor asked, returning his hanky to the inside of his vest. “A keen eye you’ve got, sir. I’m fond of that one myself.”
I nodded. “Yes…yes I suppose it is a carousel at that. Truth be told, I thought it was a scorpion at first.”
He chortled. “That’s the rub of it. That’s Ms. Elan’s gift, you see? Your eye’s sharper than most, I daresay. She calls this series ‘Neithernor,’ because they are neither one thing nor the other. One sees two things at once, you might say. Take that one, for example…”
He leaned forward on his stool and for a moment I feared he might try to rise, but he merely pointed to the case at the end of the show floor. I moved to it to save him further exertion. I studied the biggish piece featured there.