The midday summer sun beamed hot and ruthless on the back of the Valkyrie's neck… Though, Wigfrid didn't exactly seem to mind. The hunt she'd been occupied with distracted her from the worst of the heat (and the cool breeze that'd been sweeping its way through the deciduous forest hadn't hurt matters much, either).
There was something special in the air today… Something semi-sweet that rode along with the breeze; it reminded Wigfrid of flowers and fruits, and something else she couldn't exactly place her finger on. Catching the scent of her quarry would have been nice, too, but she hadn't exactly been complaining…
Normally, there would have been little to be content about this deep into summer… When dehydration sunk one's claws deep enough into you to make you dizzy with the strain of your efforts, and when the camp was always a few degrees short of catching alight, reducing precious resources to smoldering embers.
And yet, and yet, and yet… Something felt off about today. The good sort of 'off'- a rarity indeed, in a place like this… Like meeting an old friend on the street, finding charm in the serendipity of it all.
Nostalgia licked at some deep rooted part of her soul like a candle flame… Normally, that would be a bad sign. A sign her mind needed tending to- a sign to distance herself from the outside world for a while… But there'd been something about today that felt a bit different. She felt… calm. Even when tracking her quarry, her body felt unusually lax.
So- perhaps foolishly- she allowed the feeling to remain… That blossoming sense of sentimentality. She would come upon her prey soon, anyways, and it would no doubt be swept away by then… Replaced with adrenaline and fervor and her usual bloodlust.
If she held onto it for just a moment- savored it for as long as it lasted… how much harm could it possibly do?
By: Ottessa Moshfegh
In this, my 140th book review, there will be no intro that gives a taste of what the book is about. It’s a collection of short stories that even Penguin Books couldn’t explain adequately, so why should I? I’m feeling spiteful.
Ottessa Moshfegh is a recently successful author who was shortlisted for the Man Booker Prize for her debut novel Eileen but really saw a rise in…
Victorian England turned hypocrisy into fine art. Oscar Wilde and other writers lampooned the pretensions and the double standards in books, plays, and operettas. These were funny but deadly serious in the business world. Great Britain officially abolished slavery, with a few exceptions, in 1833. However, the moral high ground the British claimed did not stop them from profiting.
Some Necessary…
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