Where am I and doing what? You might well ask. Freaky chick, you say? You can't imagine. I am priestess of a sandcastle in a land of dust and starlight.
The truth, she found, felt smooth, like a skipping stone in the palm of your hand.
Is that all souls are for? For when we die?" "No. They're for living, too.
A dream dirty and bruised is better than no dream at all.
...something was starting to take shape, out of magic and will. Smoke and bone.
Humanity, perhaps, that quality of benevolence that humans have, without irony, named after themselves.