Benjamin Schoderbek

“I’m sure everyone’s sorry and said they’re sorry, and you’ve heard it a thousand times. We all mean well, by the way. We just don’t have words.”
I rubbed a hand over my forehead. Maybe that was the end of it. A little different than the standard lines. She meant well. Good talk. “It’s fine. Most people just say ‘sorry.’ I don’t need a speech.”
“I’m not, though.” Her hair swished against my arm as she shook her head. “It’s sad your mother died. It is. Because of all the things she’ll miss. It’s very sad. But, I’m glad she lived.”  ”
― J. Rose Black, Chasing Headlines

“Mary stared at the dreamlike happenings on the page. Human figures faced each other; the man’s head was a golden ball with rays reaching up to huge stars and out to the distant mountains; the woman’s silver head was sickle-shaped and surrounded by birds like eagles with white beaks. Some of the black letters glowed because they had tips like tiny flames.”
― Susan Rowland, The Alchemy Fire Murder

“Mead.
O sweet elixir,
Ye bless the lips and steal the wits.
 ”
― K. Ritz, Sheever's Journal, Diary of a Poison Master

“The boy took his seat at one side of the fire, his men arrayed about him like the spikes on a porcupine's back, all bristling with spears.”
― Tony Debajo, In the Shadow of Ruin