The Scariest Place

A friend posed this question online yesterday.

“What is the scariest place you have ever been?”

I started to write a glib answer, but then my brain started to sputter and whir. How would I actually answer that question? Where was it? And in traditional manner, some words clattered out of the hopper onto the floor. [I didn’t post them, as I try to avoid looking like too much of a psychopath on Facebook.]

The space between lights.

That’s it.

Between street lamps, and nightlights, and the bathroom and the bedroom covers.

The dark, the Dark, the knowledge of the unknown. The light makes things obey, makes things serve the rules of this world.

The dark breaks. Breaks the rules. The skin of the world growing thin between the lights, who knows what might slip through into our world. What gibbering, sharp-toothed horror?

Happy Halloween.

On Witches

Alleb – Robot Pencil/Anthony Jones

“a Witch is born out of the true hungers of her time (…) I am a child of the poisonous wind that copulated with the River on an oil-slick, garbage infested midnight. I turn about on my own parentage. I inoculate against those very biles that brought me to light. I am a serum born of venoms. I am the antibody of all Time.”

 Long After Midnight, Ray Bradbury


Doesn’t that just make you sick? I have a witch in Spell/Sword, and several of my early readers have asked ‘What’s the deal with this witch?’. I’ve tried several times to explain with rambling and halting description. Then I came across this quote on Tumblr — perfectly summed it up. Freaking Bradbury.