Mind the stones there. A centaur took out part of my stone wall in a hissy fit. Centaurs, what can you do, hmm?

The thing about regret was that it curdled. It couldn’t stand up to the harsh salts of traditional methods of preservation.

Chantilly, bobbin, guipure, knotted, knitted, on and on. Where is the floor? The door?

After an overnight double shift, I was in the shower when the phone rang. Dad had fallen and couldn’t get up.

Welcome to Inner Worlds issue eight, which marks an incredible two years since the magazine launched!