Caroline Shea
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therealcshea.bsky.social
Caroline Shea
@therealcshea.bsky.social
730 followers 1.2K following 320 posts
She/her. Freelance writer and editor living in New York. Author of Lambflesh (Kelsay Books, 2019). Open to editorial clients now: https://caroline-fitzgerald-shea.squarespace.com/editorial-consultations
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Reposted by Caroline Shea
jordankurella.com
you can pick up THE DEATH OF MOUNTAINS from @lethepress.bsky.social directly:
The Death of Mountains | Lethe Press
The latest novella by Nebula finalist Jordan Kurella is a moving allegorical tale. As mankind continues to hurt the planet, leaving us with scarred lands, stories like The Death of Mountains are more ...
www.lethepressbooks.com
November 11, 2025 at 4:56 PM
therealcshea.bsky.social
Grateful to all these wonderful magazines & of course to anyone who has spent their time with my work this year. It means a lot. I should have more things to share soon, but knowing the sentient and mercurial nature of publishing schedules, probably not until the new year.
November 11, 2025 at 2:25 PM
therealcshea.bsky.social
"Something Broken, Something New," in
@lunastation.bsky.social: lunastationquarterly.com/issues/062/
You know how this story is meant to end. They follow Dan home. The girl molts; the boy's eyes dull from brilliant red back to a dull ordinary blue. His heart eventually stutters, then stops. The chil- dren never liked this ending. Instead, they leave death behind. All it costs them is the world. Most days, they don't miss it.
November 11, 2025 at 2:24 PM
therealcshea.bsky.social
"The Interrogation of Saint Winifred," in @thedeadlands.com: psychopomp.com/deadlands/is...
Who killed you? a man a man like any other do the dead care You aren’t dead. Not anymore. I still speak their tongue Do you forgive him? I lack that muscle Did it hurt? you always ask that do you think death a picnic of course it hurt Dying? yes but coming back was worse
November 11, 2025 at 2:23 PM
therealcshea.bsky.social
"Argent," in @cold-signal.com: cold-signal.com/argent-carol...
“You can save them,” the witch-devil says. “If you want to.” The devil always gives her the choice. She hates him for that more than anything else—for making her choose, making her run headlong toward her fate, eyes open. She can’t say no. She can’t walk away or abdicate. That would be a different story, a story she has no idea how to tell. And no matter how many times she loses her brothers, she cannot bring herself to let them go for good. Whether they are turned to deer, or ravens, or swans, whether they are cooked, or killed by robbers, or murdered in their beds, their loss stings each time as if it were new. It means something, to have someone walk with you through the wood. To have someone’s hand in yours as the trees creep ever closer. Her brothers don’t remember their other lives with her, the years of tugging her braids, skipping stones and dodging blows, the thorny grammar of growing up together in a world where children grow up quickly or not at all. They don’t remember, but she does. "Fine," the girl says, "what do I do?"
November 11, 2025 at 2:22 PM
therealcshea.bsky.social
"Greyhound," in
@stonecirclereview.bsky.social: stonecirclereview.com/greyhound/
Every three days, a beast like me / dies on the track.
November 11, 2025 at 2:20 PM
therealcshea.bsky.social
anymore than there would be in rebooting a super hero franchise or making a new Robin Hood or King Arthur movie. If the successive stories are connected, it’s not by a straight line, but by loops or in layers of sediment, old interpretations fossilized inside the new
November 11, 2025 at 11:09 AM