October 5, 2009

A Poor Man’s Roses

At first, she sang to remember. It was a way to pass the long, dark time, a way to drown out the buzz in her head when the earth shook and the bunker rattled, a way to live outside the bars of her cage, to be a woman who smoked and drank, flirted and pined, flipped her pin curls and married a man for his car.
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Ghost Technology from the Sun

Master told us that the earth was hollow, and that we lived on the inside of it, clinging to the top of the crust. Below us was another world, a world inside the world, a glowing bright sun of a place. What Master called the summerlands.
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Interview with Brandon Massey

It’s been a long time since I’ve had a chance to catch up with Brandon Massey. We first met at HorrorFind IV where we were on what was probably the first “black people who write horror” panel.
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