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dalyashleydrh2o.bsky.social
ashley bevilacqua anglin
@dalyashleydrh2o.bsky.social
820 followers 2.5K following 330 posts
author of UNDISCOVERED https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/94424229-undiscovered,
short stories, poetry & creative nonfiction http://linktr.ee/ashleyb.anglin,
language professor/editor/wordnerd,
she/her
https://books2read.com/u/bzwQG9
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dalyashleydrh2o.bsky.social
new LFL in my neighborhood + few copies left over from a book fair yesterday = don't mind if i do! and no offense, but aren't my shiny lovelies *far* more intriguing than "belly fat diet for dummies"?
a LFL near ashley now includes Undiscovered + Dreamcaught anthology, featuring yours truly. swim far and true, my pretties
October 5, 2025 at 6:59 PM
dalyashleydrh2o.bsky.social
a spot of trouble in Amsterdam with the gross political movement known as Humanism... they don't want to share their bar with selkie folk.

(and tangentially, now i'm going to have "black water lilies" by aurora stuck in my head all morning) #wipsnips
“Okay, gorgeous.” She tilted her shaved head toward the door. “Let’s put all that away, please, and you two are out of here.” Oisin complied with a cheeky smile. “I’ll just settle our tab.” But she shook her head, dead serious now. “It’s on these two. You’re in a hurry to be nowhere near this establishment, and they’ll have a moment before the police get here to have yet another talk about why hate speech and assault are both against the law.” She clapped him on the back of the shoulder as we made our quick retreat. Still laughing, we emerged into a river of mist cold enough to make me catch a gratified breath. The relative quiet of the late weeknight street left my ears ringing as well. He called a pod straight away. My adrenaline began to ebb, and the scary thought of consequences flowed in. “You’re not cut anywhere, are you?” “No, I’m fine.” “Can you—you know. Keep out of the neighborhood for a while?” I said. He sighed out forcefully through his nose and gave me a tight little shrug. Fair enough.
October 1, 2025 at 1:27 PM
dalyashleydrh2o.bsky.social
post a you from a different era.

here's me in the 1920s, when i was 40. haha/sighhh
long-ago ashley in a 1920s look for a halloween party
September 30, 2025 at 12:10 PM
dalyashleydrh2o.bsky.social
only a bunch of words that rhyme with "ink" so far in Undreamt, so here's one from Undiscovered. just yesterday, though, i was thinking about how this character's future partner (he's like two pages from meeting her here) might end up with a little ink of her own. stay tuned... #wipsnips
I watched him pay the blue-haired faerie, who scanned his ring with wide eyes and an entranced hint of smile. As he took the glasses, I noticed intricate tattoos circling his wrists. Not just fun doodles like Lachlan and Karima had. I glimpsed more blue ink at his open collar. Normally I didn’t care for that more extensive turn-of-the-century look, but on him, I found them fascinating. Then again, his might well have been from the turn of some other century than ours. He set both drinks down. Without a word, he reached one hand still cold from holding a glass to tilt my chin up so he could study my face. As intensely clear as any impression I'd ever had from Brynja, the consuming curiosity I provoked in him nearly flattened me back against the bar stool.
September 28, 2025 at 12:53 PM
dalyashleydrh2o.bsky.social
always, always, plans to improve it, right up until the second before it leaves my hands for good. have i mentioned i do edits for SSP sometimes? hahaha, and please enjoy this favorite related quote
A uniformed guy on his way out of the spacious, sunlit lobby held the door for us. “Oh. Spec Craig?” he called after us. I turned back. His virtual badge read TS Ventura. The name rang a distant bell, but my brain wouldn’t process it just now. My own new title still took significant adjusting to. “And Ms. Araujo,” he added. I noted the American accent. “And—Ms. North. Wow. This is an honor.” “Please,” Mami said. “Just Arden. As far as UFE’s ever been concerned, you totally outrank me.” “Ando,” he said as he shook her hand. He turned to me next with a charming smile, boyish in a face that was round without softness. Just the effect of broad cheekbones for days, and hair spiked evenly up across the top and lit with a few untimely silver strands. I thought he’d be Filipino, maybe, with that surname, the vaguely Asian features, and the golden tan skin… “Oh, shit,” I blurted as his full name finally registered. “Wait, you’re--” Even printed, on pages that are bound, sentences remain unsettled organisms. Years later, I can always reach out to smooth a stray hair. And yet, at a certain point, I must walk away, trusting them to do their work. I am left looking over my shoulder, wondering if I might have structured one more effectively. Jhumpa Lahiri
September 27, 2025 at 5:28 PM
dalyashleydrh2o.bsky.social
wellp, jo has really been through it at this point #wipsnips
and i would be remiss not to point out that the future cover of Undreamt will also have a lot of leaves on it
“Ooh. Big stretch,” he said softly, tousling back my hair to press a gentle smooch to my forehead. I angled up for a real kiss. “Mm… I dream Beau was here?” I mumbled, when I’d opened my mouth expecting just to speak the normal way he did; my voice felt wildly drunk and lazy, though all I’d done last night was sleep. “Be nice… go back… proper…hearsals. Even if… prob… laugh at me…” I cleared my throat, the best guess I had to get the rest of the sounds to come out next time. The back of his hand quickly caught a fat tear that spilled inexplicably over with his smile. “No, of course Ysabeau wasn’t going to leave your side,” he said. “And she’d better not laugh at you. We’ll ring her.” “...Crying?” I whispered, tracing a fingertip over the temple and cheekbone he’d left still damp. His eyes shone saltwater bright as he caressed my hair again, my cheek, but no more tears fell. “Och, not really. It’s just nice to hear your voice again.”
September 24, 2025 at 12:30 PM
dalyashleydrh2o.bsky.social
hot off the presses... i just wrote this scene yesterday (and no one aurora's ever met has more *skills* than mr. O D, believe you her) #wipsnips
She seemed mainly to be an impressionistic sort of painter, but one of her nodes showed stained glass artworks, and another a portfolio of jewelry she’d made. Gorgeous, nature-inspired things in a mix of different metals and stones. It was the glass rings and pendants, the shapeshifting images inside them, that finally reminded me where I’d seen her work before. Sometimes one of the Halfmey shops sold these pieces; the sign on the display case bore the pretty photo I’d recognised. It was my sister, a massive fan, who’d insisted on showing them to me at some point. Elsewhere on the same node, I found the striking pendant her selkie artist partner had worn the second time we met. I sighed a little. This piece, too, was a shapeshifter. An impressionistic rendering of an elephant’s face on one side, a skate or ray on the other. She sold them in the silver version he’d had on, as well as gold and a dark grey tungsten. I switched to image searches, social nodes, looking for her with anyone bearing a resemblance to the man who must be O D. Little joy, and I’d need to get to defensive skills class soon. I breathed a bigger sigh and prepared to give up for now. Then I spotted a familiar face, though not at all the one I’d expected. Lady Muirgen Grey, the Irish matriarch.
September 23, 2025 at 2:49 PM
dalyashleydrh2o.bsky.social
i think i posted the #wipsnips directly before this bit not too long ago. (one of many things B and i have in common is disliking our given first names, both starting with B. she happens to be working on a "what the B stands for" poem right now & yes, bitch makes the list. but it's really Berenys)
“Cross my heart and hope to die,” she said, muffling a giggle. Then I heard only her wee high-heeled footsteps and my bedroom door closing from the outside. “What sort of guest am I meant to dress for, then?” I sighed aloud to no one, and I shut the water off. Ugh. Everyone round here knew what the B stood for, at least during moments like this one, didn’t they. As I diffused my hair, I checked the time. The reception started in all of twenty more minutes. So I’d let my curls do their own thing from here, and my mystery guest wouldn’t get a great deal in the way of makeup from me. A practised flurry of sparkly highlighter and a good swipe of mascara covered a multitude of halfheartedness.
September 22, 2025 at 1:45 PM
dalyashleydrh2o.bsky.social
this #wipsnip is from Undreamt. but i would be remiss not to mention that for more about the North family's unusual dynamic, you can read my short story "Undine Summer" for free---it's in the book sample www.amazon.com/Cozyish-Sale...
My surely unsettled expression provoked her new, slight smile. “As he reminded me, he’s had two true loves all this time, hasn’t he, and both the fairest of them all. One of them just happens to be the actual definition of platonic. Seemed to me like it stings less when the other person’s not a man. And Wren in particular, he considers the worthiest rival… he says how could he deprive them of the different kind of soulmates they are to each other, or the rest of the world of everything they’re creating together?” Then she laughed again. “That’s also when he said sex needn’t be the main thing in life, for him. Or in love. We agreed to disagree on that bit.” “Och.” It felt nice to giggle along, with the weight mostly off my chest now. “Maybe in a million years when we’re his age, we’ll get there as well?”
September 21, 2025 at 2:42 PM
dalyashleydrh2o.bsky.social
i didn't set out to make Undreamt eVen WoKeR gArBaGe than Undiscovered, but... here's one visible bit of that iceberg #wipsnips
Still, I tried to keep my voice even. “The rich nations who haven’t historically given two shits about the environment, then turning away people who were made refugees by the rich ones’ choices? And even if you somehow rationalise doing that. Literal children?” I shook my head. “Off Malta, the most beautiful little boy took his last breath in my arms. My stupid tech was glitching and we couldn’t understand each other’s words… his last words. I kind of…” Yeah, so much for my calm and professional tone of voice. I swallowed hard. “That was when I found myself needing to swim the long way home.” “Sorry,” Dr. M murmured. “That was the first last straw for me, too. The kids we couldn’t save. Back in the days of the North Sea tsunami.” “Yet here you are, doing so much good decades later. How did you get beyond it?” His expressive eyes glinted with grief and peace, all the years of wounds and healing behind them, as he smiled a bit. “I retreated into the brainier side of things, because that’s always been the best of me. The gift I have to offer. Your solution may be less straightforward, but we’ll find one.” “Thanks,” I breathed. “Any… immediate guesses, though, or…?” “Well, in the short term, I’d like to see you try biting off smaller pieces of this thing we’re all collectively hoping to achieve. Not having to be The Hero to be a hero, to make a real difference.” “I don’t give a toss for being a hero,” I said. “I just… I still need to help, only without getting hurt so much.”
September 17, 2025 at 12:26 PM
dalyashleydrh2o.bsky.social
another #wipsnips, another moment of sibling banter & another description of jo's work wardrobe lol. (vibing "prize" for "award.") and this dress is probably the #1 thing of hers that i'd love to find in my size (alas, like this mental version, i'd just have to create it myself)
“Desecrate a vintage Parisi at your peril, Oliver Calum. When the design gods come for you, I’ll tell them I don’t know you at all,” Vi sniffed. “If Jo doesn’t want it, it’s mine and I won’t even have to do any alterations.” He scoffed good-naturedly. “Where would you ever wear it? Back to your maths course? You’ll take up three or four seats…” “I’ll swan up and down the beach in it, and you can do some artsy photos and win a big prize. You’re welcome.” I hadn’t realised how much I missed their banter. As I listened, I waded out of the ball gown and tried the last dress, which I hadn’t seen earlier buried amid all that blue. I loved its olive-chartreuse stretch velvet, and the shape Elis said looked inspired by the 1920s although none of us imagined it was actually two hundred years old: sleeveless with a wide scooping neckline and a skirt that fell straight in front, while at the back the top dipped to a low v and the skirt fanned out into a lush fishtail full enough that I’d be able to play in it by twitching the soft material up a discreet few centimetres as I took my seat. Just while standing around, though, it seemed pretty snug across my bum and upper thighs. Vi laughed when I pointed that out, again pinching some slack out at the back of my ribs. “Joey. Where on Earth is the problem?” She glanced to the guys for confirmation.
September 14, 2025 at 12:14 PM
dalyashleydrh2o.bsky.social
where my people who make themselves bawl when they write certain scenes at? because yeahhhh, the one this is snipped from messed me UP #wipsnips
His quiet voice hadn’t wavered, but his breath sighed out unsteadily as he set the paper down. “That’s it?” I said, still sniffling. “Yeah, and then she’s signed it. Just M.” He handed it carefully back to me, skin never brushing. The letter rattled a bit as my shaky hands folded and replaced it in the envelope. “Can I think about this?” “That goes without saying. Yes.” I tucked it into my left breast pocket, which seemed to spark something in his memory. He touched his own pocket, the same one. “Ehm,” he said, newly tentative. “It looks like she’s also made you something. I haven’t seen this either, but... Please, let’s just have a look.”
September 13, 2025 at 12:44 PM
dalyashleydrh2o.bsky.social
two "outside"s for the price of one! (will both survive future editing rounds? stay tuned...) #wipsnips
I was still stood in the shower, aimlessly wandering the sunlit lagoon of my thoughts, when the pitter-patter of fingernails on my bathroom door startled me to the surface. “Ariel, sweet,” B said. “Sorry to intrude, but you weren’t answering when I rang…” “Because I’m in the shower?” I said under her. “I’ve ended up double-booked with VIPs tonight,” she went right on. “Could you ever…” “Ach,” I said, equal parts sigh and groan. Not just because she’d shown up in my bedroom, which by itself wasn’t outside the realm of decency for her. “I’ve done the last three in a row. Can Bowie not…” “She’s had someone claim her as well. Please, my heart?” Out of words, I just vocalised the groan-whine sound, letting it drag out into a wearied fry. “I’ll pay you in a French frock or two next month,” she cajoled. Dammit. Not as if she hadn’t learnt several of the surest ways to my heart when I was too little to resist her. “Fine. Do we know who it is I’m meeting? Can you at least promise it’s not another passive-agressive closet Humanist?” “Cross my heart and hope to die,” she said, muffling a giggle. Then I heard only her wee high-heeled footsteps and my bedroom door closing from the outside.
September 10, 2025 at 3:28 PM
dalyashleydrh2o.bsky.social
right around here is when the plot of Undreamt starts going real slipstream heheh #wipsnips
I met Elis at the gate. He’d taken precious time to freshen up on landing—he was smooth-shaven, not a hair out of place, and there wasn’t a whiff of the long plane ride about him. I’d have guessed he’d bought the open-collar blue batik shirt at the airport too. This was no place for his usual classy ecoleather or Fair Isle jumpers. But his eyes were deeply shadowed and his usual dazzling smile nowhere in sight, nor his easy, witty chatter. I just got him checked in, hugged him for maybe ninety wordless seconds, then we started hand in hand toward the garden atrium. For once, selkie skin communication provided little clarity. All we could tell was that neither of us understood anything, not even how to feel. “She likes to hang out in here,” I said. “Just listening to the birds. The butterflies and dragonflies flock to her, and she seems to love them too.”
September 7, 2025 at 1:08 PM
dalyashleydrh2o.bsky.social
another day, another instance of selkie skin telepathy. and what can i say, this girl loves her rich sensory imagery (and also her coffee, and also her jane austen-esque punctuation of long but grammatically correct sentences lol) #wipsnips
My recollection, such as it was, played mostly in my mind’s ear—the ghostly orchestration of trees and wind and water droplets, softly brightened with bird-call motifs as night ebbed before the rising sun. Except for the swirling mist and steam off people’s cups, which I remembered visually vivid as Van Gogh’s dancing air. Elis hadn’t really noticed either one; other than the music I’d played, he shared recalling primarily scents, as if he’d inhaled them right to his hollow centre to try to fill it: the weight of fallen leaves and petrichor, lighter-hearted sister water in the nearby burn, the lingering tang of the nearby fire pit’s sodden ashes, the comforting aromas from those steamy tea and coffee cups.
September 4, 2025 at 4:54 PM
dalyashleydrh2o.bsky.social
my WIP has no instances of "sane," which... yeah, that tracks. please enjoy two antonyms, including my favorite british one, plus a little more selkie skin telepathy #wipsnips
When I made my way below to look for Da and Elis, I found them both busy in the galley with Mam. She slid a mug of tea across the benchtop for me. “Ohh, thanks forever. And what else smells so crazy delicious in here?” “The lads had asked for a big pot of pasta.” Elis smiled a greeting at me and kept working, while Da put his knife down and wiped his hands to come give me a heartfelt, garlic and basil-scented hug. “But if you’re craving something else, we could--” “No, that sounds like food of the gods.” Almost anything would, after more than a month without a scrap of regular people food. Da stroked back my salt-crusted curls, which I hadn’t considered but they probably looked bonkers. With the touch, his spirit gently questioned mine: the emptiness beyond physical hunger, the increasing length of time I’d needed in the wild. “You’re too good at that,” I sighed, and laid my head against his shoulder. “I don’t feel like crying right now, please.” He kissed the back of my head. His arms held me closer while his mental energy backed off. “Sorry, sweetheart. And so glad you made it.” “Me too.” I lifted my mug between grateful hands for a first cautious sip, then a bigger one. “Och. Bliss.”
September 3, 2025 at 12:26 PM
dalyashleydrh2o.bsky.social
he may have been dumbing it down a bit in the last decade or two, but in point of fact, Ysabeau, he's always been an utter smokeshow #wipsnips
The moment I stepped out, a tingling haze of murmurs and giggles enveloped me. “And excuse me,” Beau was saying over the bubble and swish of the small crowd, “but since when are you hot?” “Ysabeau, hush,” her mother answered archly. Mam, not B. Beau’s VIP, then, and I could only feel as pleased as ever to see her too. “Let’s not make it more awkward than it needs to be.” I also knew the indulgent answering chuckle as well as any voice from the collective home where I’d grown up. Then again, so would almost anyone in the developed world. He was better known than any of us, which certainly explained the warm welcome aboard this evening. But he’d had good reason never to set foot on Halfmey before. “And anyway, you’re one to talk,” he answered Beau as I laid a hand on someone’s black-clad shoulder, asking admittance into his circle of fans.
September 1, 2025 at 12:19 PM
dalyashleydrh2o.bsky.social
just a lil glimpse of the a w k w a r d n e s s that is this scene. #wipsnips
“Osaka,” Oisin said, spooning bits of things onto his plate. “Now that’s a real food town. You should get your boyfriend to take you someday.” “The food here’s nice enough too when you eat it at the intended temperature, babe. Tell him, Aurora, that it is not a ‘selkie thing’ to leave your perfectly lovely dinner or a nice cuppa to get stone cold, then still eat or drink it.” Oisin breathed out a little laugh through his nose. “Definitely not me,” I said, laughing too. “Although I get the not minding cold. But my sisters will, if they’re too absorbed in something. Maybe it’s an artist thing instead? Selkie artist thing?” His mouth was full so he didn’t answer, just met my eyes with a little smile and held them. In appreciation of what I’d said, or was that the artist studying me? How long had we been staring? I scrambled for words, any words. “Did you both study there? Oh–Sorry. Right, back then you couldn’t…”
August 30, 2025 at 12:10 PM
dalyashleydrh2o.bsky.social
i've always written, ever since the days of my narnia fanfic "the lillie maidens" [sic] when i was 7 1/2. (i know because my mom had me write this on the paper lol.) but i didn't attempt to get fiction published until i was 42, a one-off contest attempt. within a year i got more serious about it!
first page of ashley's fanfic "the lillie maidens," which begins "once upon a time, in a faraway kingdom, there lived a prince. his name was rorian. he did not have any brothers or sisters. it was only that he did have a kitten" lol
August 29, 2025 at 8:00 PM
dalyashleydrh2o.bsky.social
the only "scrub" in my WIP is a passage i've shared here fairly recently. so please have this cheerful happy feel-good moment* from the end of chapter 1 of Undiscovered #wipsnips
*and a wee foreshadowing kinda pun, for those who know what to look for
The inexpensive aluminum pan slipped from my hands, splashing dishwater as it dented against the tile floor. “Damn,” Imani said. “But they arrested them, I hope? The – human traffickers?” “Three men under arrest, this says. But no one with much of a prior history, which means the key players probably weren’t there.” “Now? Of course they weren’t,” Chen said. “And yeah, the ones pulling the strings do it remotely most of the time, right?” “Who’d choose to be here?” Imani agreed. “Other than us, I mean.” “Hijodeputa,” I muttered, picking the pot up and slamming it back into the sink. It wouldn’t be on the grid, not that I’d ever had their names anyway, but I knew. Running from an unimaginable flood and its aftermath, this was the kind of sanctuary those beautiful girls had found. It was probably only good for recycling at this point; I still scrubbed the pan as if in doing so, I could get the stain of my own human race off me. I would have shed my skin entirely if I could. Hopefully, it looked like I’d just splashed soapy water in my eye.
August 29, 2025 at 1:08 PM
dalyashleydrh2o.bsky.social
kinda can't resist using this note that will appear at the start of Undreamt for today's #wipsnips
The main narrative of Undreamt takes place 27 years after the events of Undiscovered. The two are stand-alone stories set in the same world, with some characters in common, so if you happen to have found this book first and you’re not fussed about going completely spoiler-free, you could read Undreamt first and Undiscovered as a prequel. If you’re reading this one first (or would like a refresher): These stories take place on either side of 2100, in a version of our world’s future where some countries and corporations now work together to mitigate and live with the effects of climate change wrought in our time. Chief among those working for good are the collaborative agency United Forces International, and a folkloric endangered species who speak for the oceans in countless subtle ways: the selkies of the North Sea. The old tales have got a few things wrong about these selkie folk. Their seal shape, exquisitely sensitive to their ocean environment, isn’t a removable skin (to be stolen and exploited by humankind), but rather, a part of their being which they can shift at will. Sealskin magic here comes in two other aspects: a form of telepathy (the ability to share emotions, sensations and memories, although not verbal communication, via touch); and the possibility to look young despite living hundreds of years, as long as they remain in close contact with their North Sea life source. True love and destiny, however? Those are no mere stories.
August 27, 2025 at 12:14 PM
dalyashleydrh2o.bsky.social
or, as she's fondly known in the @shadowsparkpub.bsky.social discord, Intimidating Lesbian Choreographer In The Three-Piece Suit (The ILC for short) #WIPSnips
The impeccable bar lady’s aquamarine eyes took in my outfit in a single blink of opulent lashes, then lifted to my face. “That’s nicer on you than it is on me. Rude.” Her neutral, polished English-accented voice betrayed a smile she didn’t show. “Rowan’s got a good eye.” I’d never bothered trying to keep up with Jo and Beau’s chattering about the convoluted romantic choreographies among their cast and crew. Jo herself never had much to report, and I’d really rather keep details of my young cousin’s many duets as vague as I could manage; everyone else’s were even less my business. Just now, though, a half-remembered remark about Wren and Tess and their ugly breakup clicked neatly into place. This was the show’s literal choreographer. I’d never seen her offstage, or out of her character’s dramatic wig and makeup. From her huge energy in performance I’d have expected she’d be taller, at least my height, but of course the slight frame made sense for a former ballerina. “Nice to meet you, finally. Just in time to save me from death by sparkles or meringue,” I answered with a laugh. “Thanks for that.” “Same.” She smiled too. “The lipstick suits you as well. Keep it.”
August 24, 2025 at 3:01 PM
dalyashleydrh2o.bsky.social
the world's such a shitshow. have more of Jo's fun work wardrobe, and some banter with her brainy younger siblings #wipsnips
The twins dumped a bag of recent vintage finds on the bed for me to try on: a dark, kelpy lace midi skirt that would be cool for talkback nights, fish-scale patterned little pumps whose quirky curved-under heels were so cute I might have to make an exception to my regular shoe policy, an ocean of deep iridescent teal organza. “Not sure about this one,” I said as I swished the skirt’s sculptural long ruffles from side to side. “You’re thinking for Song? With no hair or makeup, I don’t usually go this ballgown-y or this bright.” Vi stood behind me, looking over my shoulder at my reflection as she tugged the strapless bodice closer around my torso. “I got full marks for my presentation on the maths that would’ve gone into this skirt. I think it’ll be divine on you, the way the Coracle’s lit. With all the lovely water behind you.” “We can save that one for last,” Oli said. “And if you really decide you don’t want it, we’ll have tonnes of that nice fabric to repurpose.” “Desecrate a vintage Parisi at your peril, Oliver Calum. When the design gods come for you, I’ll tell them I don’t know you at all,” Vi sniffed. “If Jo doesn’t want it, it’s mine and I won’t even have to do any alterations.”
August 22, 2025 at 2:13 PM
dalyashleydrh2o.bsky.social
oh, she's trapped, all right #wipsnips
“Oh. Yeah.” I straightened, rubbing away a stray tear. “Just wishing I’d even known to come here and see it, before. Wishing there was more I could…” When I met his eyes he smiled–not dazzlingly like yesterday, just a hint of it. He was even more surreally gorgeous up close, with his glossy hair loose around his shoulders and upper arms today. The half-buttoned shirt, I guessed, was some sort of signature style for him. I hadn’t noticed, at yesterday’s distance, whether he’d worn the same weighty silver pendant on a leather thong in the shadowed hollow of his chest. The abstract design might have been an elephant’s head or a manta ray; I didn’t let my eyes rest there long enough to be sure. “You’re the last one here,” he said. “I almost didn’t realise. They’ve been waiting for me to leave so they can lock up the perimeter. Nearly trapped you for the night.” I took one more slow look around. “Okay,” I sighed.
August 19, 2025 at 1:09 PM
dalyashleydrh2o.bsky.social
the only "crawl" in my WIP is in a note, not completed text, so today you're getting this one from my novelette "Undine Summer" in the Cozyish anthology. these characters will be back in Undreamt, though--12 or so years after this story takes place
#wipsnips
Outside the big forward window, the sun touched the sea. B said something about a few minutes to get her things together. Behind me, I heard Mam asking Jo and the twins to clear up before I shut the door and crawled into a top bunk. I lay with the blankets up to my nose, only my wet eyes uncovered to stare helplessly at the ceiling. I heard everyone’s feet and voices going up on deck, but the quiet motor of the raft starting never reached my ears. Then, one set of soft footsteps coming back down. A light tapping at my door. I didn’t, couldn’t really, answer. She turned the handle, but stayed in the open doorway.
August 17, 2025 at 1:39 PM