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They come each night, they sneak, they crawl,
But none get past me, none at all!
They scratch, they whisper, they try to bite,
But I tell ‘em to fuck off—or else we’ll fight!
I’ve been writing. Some. Not great at updating websites, because reasons. But there’s a surprising amount of stuff that’s collecting dust and percolating in the canopic jars of my writing PC. Folders, if we’re being mundane. Some of it will likely never see the light of day, pushed down into the repressed recesses of the amaranth that is Caolle Kachura’s skeleton closet (ooh, easter eggs!) and others contain spoilers that may or may not come to pass. But I like a lot of it and it seems a shame not to post it, sometimes it inspires me to do more of the thing and that has to be good. So proceed at your own risk, or don’t. But since you’re already here…
Musings on job hunting during a cost of living crisis as your industry crashes down around you…
This is Caolle's curse, so impulsive, so thoughtless. But he's not. It's not that Caolle doesn't think about consequences, or repercussions. It's just the opposite, he considers an action and his mind spills out in innumerable possibilities, branches off in a hundred dizzying directions, and from there into a tangled web of forks and possibilities. Action upon actions. Consequences and repercussions piled on cause and effect. Enough to leave anyone paralysed into inaction. Or in Caolle's case, to act simply for the sake of acting.
On the cusp of enjoying family life as a new mother, Emma’s life takes a sudden turn after her husbands terminal cancer diagnosis.
‘You were horrible to me growing up.’
‘Lies. I adored you, making fun of you was just my way of showing it. Look how that turned out, what a strong minded, independent young woman you are. Free to adorn herself with whatever ghastly tattoos she sets her sights on.’
You go in expecting to earn a few honest dollars, next thing you know you’re neck to the jugular deep in your own twisted fairy tale because your employer is a vampire running his own summer blood camp and the week after that you’ve inherited unintentional guardianship of a dozen children in need of rehoming. Oh, and people who aren’t really people are trying to kill you. Vampires and faeries and monsters under the bed. I know, life is messed up.
As per your request we have begun our compilation into the research of the municipal commonly referred to as San Marseille, that being the city and immediate surrounding countryside. To the best of our knowledge and the available records, this is the first such undertaking.
A long time ago, eleven years ago, 2014, Sharalyn messaged me, very drunk. She told me she loved me, btw, and just thought she should a few people. That she loved them. She asked if we could catch up and watch Labyrinth or Princess Bride or Frozen. I said yes but only because I loved her.