#i am very glad for the chance to talk about my original projects :DD

[gloriousmonsters]

I HAVE BEEN VERY VERY VERY CURIOUS ABOUT YOUR ORIGINAL WORK. JUST THE STUFF I SEE IN YOUR REBLOG TAGS OCASSIONALKY GOT ME WONDERING.

please. please tell about your original stuff. i am relatively new so if everyone else is already familiar with it i’m sorry but i need to catch up and am curious so. literally any of your original work(s) that u want to ramble most about, i’m all ears.

:D tbh I bring up some of them periodically, but not all THAT often, so I don't know if everyone's looped in lol. regardless I Will take this opportunity to talk about The Devil Doesn't Live Here, bc I don't think I've actually talked about that one since it went through some major changes at least.

The Devil Doesn't Live Here is the story of Sarah Merle, the reluctant offshoot of a mildly magic family who returns to her hometown to arrange the funeral of her last remaining relative. She's been gone for eleven years; the town of Neverfound Gap and the surrounding forest had taken a lot from her and her family growing up, but she'd drawn the line when something in the woods had taken both her eye and the memory of losing it when she was sixteen. When her father had taken her to live with him out of town, she chose to leave everything behind.

Now she's hoping to get in and out of town as quickly as possible, but when her dead grandmother gives her a cryptic warning about coming disaster--because yeah, that's just the kind of town this is--she's forced to stick around and confront the people that have changed dramatically in her absence. Chief among them is Fred, her former best friend who now hates her guts--and who narrates the other half of the book, the story of their past leading up to the day Sarah lost her eye. As Sarah searches for answers in the present, Fred falls deeper into his fascination with the woods in the past. As Sarah realizes the growing threat of a creature called the Woodsman, Fred is enchanted by its knowledge and the acceptance it offers.

Neither of them have the whole story, and a third part of it is still missing, but it's anyone's guess as to whether they can put it together before it's too late.

excerpt :D

Eleven years, but once she hits Pine Avenue she knows the way to the Merle house like she can trace the lines in her palm, without looking. Muscle memory. She’d started driving early--in a town small enough they didn’t even have a mayor, where the town elders mostly had their time taken up by mediating conflicts between the ROC and the church-going side of town, nobody had time to arrest a fifteen-year-old driving without a lisence. Fred had flatly turned down rides in her family’s rattling old pickup a few times, citing the likelihood it might just burst into flames one of these days, and the fumes it was currently pouring into the atmosphere (“Eco-friendly,” he’d always point out about his preferred mode of travel; one foot up on the pedal of his bike, turned back to watch her fight with the coughing old engine. “And it doesn’t crap out on cold mornings.”)

Mags hadn’t cared. Mags would ride in the bed of the truck, half the time, and regale her with gossip from the passenger seat otherwise. It’s like she can see him out of the corner of her eye as the Merle house blooms through the fog of rain, red hair slipping out of its tie as he bends his head toward the window, taps his fingers against the lowered glass.. Somebody’s missing a body again. But it’s a church family, so they’re fighting the ROC over who should try and track it down…

Hallowed Grounds was a popular place, with ROC and tourists; and as much as Sarah hadn’t cared for the ROC, she’d preferred their gossip to the kind of stuff the church side of town tended to spread. When she was fifteen, it had felt like half of it was about her.

She crawls to a halt in the muddy driveway, turns the car off and hears it rattle into silence. It’s newer than the old Merle pickup, but still third-hand, bought cheap and maintained as cheap as she can manage. The rain drums loudly against the roof, and as the windshield wipers still Sarah watches the Merle House go from blurry to blurrier through the heavy sheets of rain.

Home.