The Red Wake
Captain’s Log: July 1st, 2025
The sea forgets. The ship remembers.
Tonight, The Red Wake sets sail.
After seven editorial voyages, through storms of repetition, calm patches of doubt, and one last great stillness, she is finally ready to leave the dock.
Ninety-one thousand words carved in dread and shadow. This is not a tale of war or triumph, it is a slow descent into mist, memory, and the quiet horror of being forgotten.
To those early readers who stood with me on the creaking deck, your lanterns burned when mine sputtered. Thank you for your faith, your sharp eyes, and your kind cruelty.
Now, if you hear the groan of rigging in the night, or see a fog that moves against the wind… it may already be too late.
She sails tonight.
May she haunt well.
C.N. Harrow
The sea forgets. The ship remembers.
Tonight, The Red Wake sets sail.
After seven editorial voyages, through storms of repetition, calm patches of doubt, and one last great stillness, she is finally ready to leave the dock.
Ninety-one thousand words carved in dread and shadow. This is not a tale of war or triumph, it is a slow descent into mist, memory, and the quiet horror of being forgotten.
To those early readers who stood with me on the creaking deck, your lanterns burned when mine sputtered. Thank you for your faith, your sharp eyes, and your kind cruelty.
Now, if you hear the groan of rigging in the night, or see a fog that moves against the wind… it may already be too late.
She sails tonight.
May she haunt well.
C.N. Harrow
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