"Nell pointed at three of the stricken men on the lawn. It took me a moment to recognize them as the predators that had raped her in Nogales.
Now their shivering bodies were bound into packages under the trees. They were rocking in agonies wrought by a movement in the air, and their faces were distorted by metal spikes: one that ran straight through their tongues and cheeks; another that was driven through their lips, catching their pulled-out tongues, so that the flesh hung outside their mouths like folded lunch meat.
A frothy pink lacquer coated their necks and jaws as they lay seizing in the grass, their eyes nearly garroted from their heads, like wet grey eggs about to bulge free from a hen’s cloaca.
Nell watched them intensely.
“Do you see this? Now its their lives hanging from the fucking spider’s thread. How do you like to dance, fuckers?”
Her hands curled into claws, and one of the rapists pummelled forwards, as if he were being whipped repeatedly between the thighs. The men and women in robes lay in agony, too- twisting as if their veins were being rubbed to powder. One by one their expressions eroded, the way trees will unfocus under a hailstorm, all their shape and individuality flat-lining under the repeated violence."
-excerpt from Evening's Land.
Neil Gaiman's repeated warnings about the horror in his latest book, Trigger Warning, has me revisiting mine :D EL is pretty dark in places.
More full requests! Still waiting...
Meanwhile, I've been working on Savages in longhand, filling up notebooks. Aiming to have a sturdy full draft in hand for my residency at Martha's Vineyard this spring.
This is a wild soul-book