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A Lil' Bert Can't Hurt: Words and Wisdom for Daily Life

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Bert McCoy

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“She stumbled along, knocking into a man in a wide straw hat who was running down the aisle of vendors. When he caught hold of her, she saw that his eyes were green as grass. "You,” she said, her voice syrup-slow. She stumbled and fell on her hands and knees. People were shouting at each other, but that wasn't so bad because at least no one was making her get up. Her necklace had fallen in the dirt beside her. She forced herself to close her hand over it. The elf pushed the mananambal, saying something that she couldn't quite understand because all the words seemed to slur together. The old man shoved back and then, grabbing the enkanto's arm at the wrist, bit down with his golden tooth. The elf gasped in pain and brought down his fist on the old man's head, knocking him backwards. The bitten arm hung limply from the elf's side. Tomasa struggled to her feet, fighting off the thickness that threatened to overwhelm her. Something was wrong. The potion vender had done this to her. She narrowed her eyes at him. The mananambal grinned, his tooth glinting in the floodlights.”

The Night Market
Book:The Poison Eaters and Other Stories
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“Come on,” he said, reaching for her. ” Leave me alone,” she managed to say, stumbling back. The enkanto caught her before she fell, supporting her with his good arm. ” Let her alone,” said the enkanto, “or I will curse you blind, lame, and worse." The old man laughed. “I'm a curse breaker, fool." The elf grabbed one of the Jim Beam bottles from the table and slammed it down, so that he was holding a jagged glass neck. The elf smiled a very thin smile. “Then I won't bother with magic.”

The Night Market
Book:The Poison Eaters and Other Stories
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“His alarm clock ticked by the head of the bed. He gazed at its whitish face, the hands both drawing downward. There were no clocks, there. There were no hours. It was not the river of time flowing that moved the clock's hands forward; their mechanism moved them. Seeing them move men said, Time is passing, passing, but they were fooled by the clocks they made. It is we who pass through time, Hugh thought.”

TimeClockClocks
Book:The Beginning Place
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“The first, clearer, type suggests the musical pattern of theme and variations. The chosen theme persists through the six stages, in various aspects. The second type is more difficult to analyze. A recurrent leitmotiv is lacking here; instead six differerent stages whose connection is usually an inner one are joined together in mosaic fashion. But on both types, the so-called judgment is the tenor which is maintained through all the changes.”

OccultParapsychologyAncient ChinaI ChingBook Of Changes
Author:Hellmut and Richard Wilhelm Understanding the I Ching
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“The images start to darken and she feels another hunger well up in her, this one having to do with another kind of desire. The desire to feed, to possess, and the aggressive thrill of a predator capturing and killing its prey as it tears into unspoiled flesh. Its teeth ripping and rending and the satisfying coppery taste of blood. There is the ultimate moment of surrender of drinking away the life essence. The pinnacle of lust which mounts in the very last breath, when the light drains from the victim's eyes and when the soul fades... Then there is only a triumphant cry to the moonlight and the beckoning depths of the ever waiting water.”

HorrorParanormalSupernaturalDark FantasyErotica RomanceEsoterica
Book:Saurimonde
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