The last sunny Sunday of the year, probably, and I have spent the best part of it in the conservatory, and allowing the light to push some particularly black and nasty bits of writing out of me and onto the site.
Firstly, the regular update of Satan’s Schoolgirls has reached Chapter 8, where I go sort of torture porn. Sort of. I’m trying to be subtle, really I are, Readership. It’s a good chunk of verbiage, that try as I might simply couldn’t break up. Let me know if it’s too much, won’t you?
Secondly, a new short is up in the fiction room. The Murder Room is a short burst of bile that shot out of me pretty much fully formed. It wears it’s heart and it’s influences very clearly on it’s sleeve. I won’t pretend it’s particularly great art, but it’s at the sort of level that I’m happy to hit on a warm sunny Sunday, thinking on the dark days to come.
Autumn, I mean. Nether Gods, I can be over-dramatic sometimes.
Here, have some patented lighten up Rob funnies, courtesy of the fabulous Kate Beaton: