[Fragment of the Past]

An Excerpt from an Old Draft of THE LAST LIVING MEMORY

Offworlders,

I share these fragments of the past to offer a glimpse into how this story developed over many years.

Names and places may be different, characters might have different fates or characterization, &c. The writing is imperfect, as it must be. And it will necessarily feel a little different, as well. I was a different writer then, and we are all constantly growing as writers and humans. In the interest of craft and life, therefore, it is fascinating to look back at these with an eye to growth, and the various shapes a story takes over time…

Thank you for reading, from the bottom of my heart,

Natasha

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If one stood close enough, as Rashelind did now, she could notice that the toes on the midnight angel’s bare feet were painted an arresting shade of red. The colour matched the dress she wore; the same dress she’d worn an hour earlier, at the party in Old Town—or so she’d told Rashelind, before she’d taken off to do who knows what. They hadn’t even let her change out of that dress, it seemed, before they strung her up here today, cradling her lithe neck in thick rope, and kicked the stool out from beneath her. And still she swayed, bobbing up and down on a broken neck, a beautiful and dreadful vision of life that was on a hilltop in Red Arrow.