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Rosewater (Novel Excerpt)

I’m at the Integrity Bank job for forty minutes before the anxieties kick in. It’s how I usually start my day. This time it’s because of a wedding and a final exam. Not my wedding, not my exam. In my seat by the window I can see, but not hear, the city. This high above Rosewater everything seems orderly. Blocks, roads, streets, traffic curving sluggishly around the dome. I can see the cathedral from here.
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The Island in the Attic

Where this story begins is not where it ends. The ending is neither a natural conclusion to the events leading up to it, nor a product of necessity. If you see things in the beginning that you feel foreshadow the ending, if you catch yourself saying “I knew it!” or “Well, it was obvious from the start that she would end up that way,” then know you found these narrative threads within yourself. Predestination and retrojection are not necessarily two different things.
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When She Comes

“I have been expecting you,” the man says. He watches the fluid form solidify — teeth first, then hair, wide jigida-clad hips and soft-soft skin gleaming reddish-brown from uli — inside his hut. The smell of lemongrass fills the room. Metal anklets jangle as the newly formed woman takes a step towards him.
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a house in the middle of a foggy forest.

Every Winter

Every winter, Halla rents the Villa Couloir on the banks of the Ruisseau de Rieu Ferré for its quiet, its darkness. Near the arch of the old stone bridge, it has a view of little else — skeletal trees, the shadow of a ruined windmill, a long road leading someplace Halla will never go.
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