Our latest story
Terce—Three Hours after Dawn
Sister Alice was glad of the rain. A steady patter of raindrops displayed a landscape to her sensitive ears and helped her find a path. Without hesitation, her feet followed a line of paving stones across mossy grass inside the courtyard. It was so early that the sun had not cleared the high monastery walls. The air smelled of damp stone and new wool and brown bread. Around her, she sensed other members of her order. She heard the soft fluttering of woolen garments and a musical clinking from their Möbius beads. Alice straightened the veil over her bandaged eyes and walked towards the Mill doors. For the nuns of St. Clare’s Monastery, it was time to weave the Tapestry.
The youngest kitchen apprentice watched the line of nuns pass and received a slap from Cook for taking that liberty. He shook his head to stop the flow of tears and muttered a question to an older boy washing pots beside him. “Where do they go?”
“They go inside the Mill to make the Tapestry. Mother Oda told me they have a second sight. They weave pictures of the future for the Brothers at St. Benedict’s, the monastery on the other side,” said the older boy.
“Do they give up their first sight, so they can have a second kind?”
“Yes, but not every nun gets the gift of second sight. It’s a risk they take. Sometimes they only go blind.”
“Talk less, work more, apprentice,” said Cook.
The two boys ducked their heads and redoubled their efforts. Sidelong glances and smirks of complicity passed between them.
The Tapestry – A.C. Worth
Strangers in the Night – David Whitaker
Nobody’s Daughters and the Tree of Life – L’Erin Ogle
The Foaling Season – Samuel Chapman
Matt Thompson is a London-based writer of oddball fantastical fiction. He has also released upwards of twenty records over the course of a two decade-plus musical career. When not trying to emulate Jorge Luis Borges or Richard Pinhas he likes to pretend he can cook Japanese vegetarian cuisine.
He can be found online at matt-thompson.com.
Q: How often do you think about writing during a day?
A: Depends on what I’m working on at the time. If I’m in the middle of a novel, I’m thinking about the story almost all day long, from the moment I wake up until the moment I go to sleep. Not constantly, but on and off through the day between writing sessions. The more often I can sustain the dream or trance, the faster I pick up where I left off when I sit down at the computer again. It’s far easier to finish a novel in a month this way, or three months for the longer works. If I’m between novels or short stories, I still think about writing, just not as often. I’m likely to become lost in a “what if” or a story fragment as waking dream while driving or cleaning. Long commutes are the best for coming up with new ideas or working out problems in a story.