Another Six Sentence Sunday, another look at my first drawer novel—and a peek into Clyota’s life.
It isn’t all hot partners and HushMasters, you know:
Only a few people have the guts or ignorance to overtly threaten a Librarian, but there were plenty who thought I should be reminded of what my mother had done and that I was going to hell, too, or worse, by association.
My inbox held only two of those messages today, one hinting that I could earn redemption by living alone on a mountain for the rest of my life, praying for the families of the MoonShot Base victims. I sent both to System Admin for blockage and legal repercussions, though Jeff didn’t seem overly concerned.
“Sticks and stones,” he said.
I didn’t bother telling him that sticks and stones were a walk in the park. Broken bones heal, but word-inflicted wounds can be deep and permanent.
Go ask any school-aged kid which one he’d want to face.