I just finished the first draft of “Though Thy Lips are Pale.” The ending rabbit-kicked me in the stomach.

Fuck.

When it was done, all I could do was lay in the dark on the bed by the laptop until I felt better. Still not sure I feel better.

I guess I didn’t expect it to hit this hard. This is not a tale for the jaded. It’s a tale for the wounded. And for those who still believe in something…

…even if it’s a bit dark.

I already know none of the usual places will want this. I can’t help but feel my voice is a bit too basso profundo for most fantasy magazines. Chris at Paradox might like it. He’s not reading right now, though. It’s a shame.

Goddamn faeries.

Goddamn them.