Recent News

My story "The Fletcher's Daughter" has been accepted at Residential Aliens. (A fletcher is someone who makes arrows.) In this variation on the Cinderella tale, the maid Cinderella attends a ball in place of Princess Desriella, who has sprained her ankle. Cinderella wears arrows, a gift from her father, stuck through the hair at the back of her head. Will the arrows make her look silly or will she usher in a new fashion? And what will the Prince say?

In other news, my story "Tapestries of Betrayal" is out in Greek Myths Revisited from Wicked East Press. This is a retelling of the myth of Tereus, Procne, and Philomela. I based my story on Ovid's version but made significant alterations to the original myth's conclusion. This is a wild, tragic ride with lots of violence and gore and embroidery and, of course, betrayal on many levels. Here's an excerpt:

As [Procne] descended the winding stairs to the great hall, excuses tumbled through her thoughts, explaining Philomela’s absence. Perhaps her father had found a suitor, another arrow in his quiver of alliances. Perhaps their father was ill and Philomela dared not leave him.

Itys ran across the tiled floor, across the mosaics of hounds and stags and falconers, and leapt into his father’s arms.

“Oh, Itys.” Tereus held the boy to his chest. Itys’ feet dangled below his father’s belt. “I’ve been gone too long.”

Procne stood back several paces, staring at the reunited pair, despairing over her reunion with her sister. Tereus averted his eyes.

“Where is Philomela? When does she come?”

Tereus gave Itys to his nurse, who led the boy away.

“Philomela is dead,” he said. “Bandits. They ambushed us. They killed both my men.”

Procne fell to her knees. Her scream ripped through the hall.

“I spent these weeks hunting them down.”

Procne wrenched her braids loose. Her black hair fell about her face. She ripped her tunic from neck to waist, exposing her breasts, the nakedness of her sorrow. She hid her face in her hands as sobs shook her.

Tereus clasped her shoulder. “I burned her body to save it from the wolves.” He nodded at Elpis, who clutched the boy in her robes. “I must speak to the steward and I have to find a new squire.” Tereus walked out of the hall.

Tears dripped from between Procne’s fingers to the mosaic floor, pooling on a stag with a hound gripping its throat.