DO NO HARM, p. 139

“That’s a dead brain,” one of my colleagues explained to the juniors. “Brain looks like ground glass.”

The above is not even the most gruesome passages on p. 139, dear blog readers.

Stay tuned.

#amwritinghorror: “The Rorqual”

Setting: the far north, near the Bering Sea

Joshua and his team had spent the last two months in the Baltra Valley. It was rough, tussocky ground, speckled with huge, granite boulders. When his team first arrived, they made a talley:

Arctic foxes: 5

Terns: 23

Plovers: 51

Snow geese: 62

Now, in the fading twilight, 63 days in, he heard not a sound, saw not one bird: there were only shadows, moving across the ground too rapidly to be identified.

He decided it might be useful to time these flitting shadows.

They tended to increase in frequency towards the end of the day, so this was when he set out.

Time: less than a minute between shadows. Thirty seconds. 15 seconds.

It occurred to Joshua that they might be hunting. What was their prey?

Stay tuned, dear blog readers. Stay tuned.

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