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163 pages, Kindle Edition
Published February 25, 2025
I’m working on a modern-day take on the Hesperides - three girls trapped in a garden at the Western edge of the world. There are dogs and golden apples and social theory and caves and of course, a dragon just like in the myth.
["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>'You do not have to be good.' - Mary Oliver (used as the book's epigraph on pg. 9).
Stabbing things and cutting things and putting them inside us and mashing them all up into a paste. I'll push you to your limits here, he told us, but it will make you better. It will be for your own good. (pg. 77)
And the trees scratched their branches up against the side of the house and we pulled our rotten-apple-smelling sheets up high over our heads and buried our faces into our musky pillows and said, maybe we don't always have to be so good. (pg. 136)
He said that girls like us were liars, that girls like us didn't deserve all the things he'd done for us. The meals he'd cooked us, the things he'd said, the way he'd worked so hard to get us well. And this is how he was repaid? he asked us, the smudges from the apples glowing golden on his hands. (pg. 149) - excerpts from Gloss.

I went out to the hazel wood,
Because a fire was in my head,
And cut and peeled a hazel wand,
And hooked a berry to a thread;
And when white moths were on the wing,
And moth-like stars were flickering out,
I dropped the berry in a stream
And caught a little silver trout.
When I had laid it on the floor
I went to blow the fire a-flame,
But something rustled on the floor,
And someone called me by my name:
It had become a glimmering girl
With apple blossom in her hair
Who called me by my name and ran
And faded through the brightening air.
Though I am old with wandering
Through hollow lands and hilly lands,
I will find out where she has gone,
And kiss her lips and take her hands;
And walk among long dappled grass,
And pluck till time and times are done,
The silver apples of the moon,
The golden apples of the sun.
