Gnawing at the bones of the worms swarming blind, eyeless, writhing in their own decaydiscarding the leaves, brittle shells of beetlesthe maw of the dark always hungrywith something older that time remembers when the earth was unplowed and empty...

Angora's pulse hammered in her throat. She knew those words. Knew the way they curled around her like cold fingers. Ten years ago, she had run from the bayou, the cult that had marked her as theirs. From the...

My mind, a dark sequoia, towering and grim, its roots twist deep where shadows swim. From cracks in cement—black whispers rise, echoes of voices, half-truths and lies. The city pulses, a throbbing swarm, but every...