The murders had been simple. He’d added ten drops to the good and the Warrior King, invincible in battle, had passed.
Author: joanspilman
Former teacher, writer of Appalachian Literature, short stories, and fantasy. Current publication, "This Will Never Stop" see Kirkus Reviews, Vol. LXXXXVII, NO. 22 Nov. 15, 2019. Also featured on booktrib, and Booklife. Has published a YA entitled "Sansablatt Head", and books for children under the general title of "The Waddling Dead". Received MFA from Wichita State University where she received the fellowship. Published in Southern Humanities Review, Short Story International, Carriage House Review,Willow Springs, Laurel Review and other literary magazines. Winner of George Garrett Prize for Best Prose, W.WashingtonU. Winner of Microkosmos Fiction Award, WSU. Winner of John Maier Award at Marshall University.
The Bread of Angels
Bread of Angels, Lead us where we are heading.
Flight, Chapter 60
She glanced at the statue that had consumed flesh of her flesh and knew she’d earned her reward.
Flight, Chapter Fifty Nine
The fire called to her, promising to burn her clean.
Flight, Chapter Fifty Eight
To say she’d hated her son was an understatement. She saw traces of not one, but three men.
Flight, Chapter Fifty Seven
The bodies of the dead were gathered daily and dumped like soft fruit on Carrion Hill, where the crows were fat and patient.
Flight, Chapter Fifty Six
The girl was used to abuse, yet the man riding the destrier sensed defiance as well.
Paintings by Allan
Remembering the Fallen.
Paintings by Allan
“Blooming West Virginia”
PAINTING BY ALLAN.
Flight, Chapter Fifty Five
Rizla flew in an indigo cloud and rejoiced at the gift of flight. Flight was the gift she cherished.
