Jennifer

“There came a day when we were to make dumplings. We filled them with dark berries. We filled them with meat. We lowered them into boiling water. Watched them sink to the bottom only to come rushing back to the surface, like drowning schoolboys full of desperation. The perforated ladle scooped them up and rescued them to a hand-painted plate of thick porcelain. A complicated pattern of roses and insects. I imagined the hand that had painted the plate. Thin and bony and with red-painted nails.”
― Johanne Lykke Holm, Strega

“A fine weapon,” Chet said, hands on hips. “What shall you name it?” “Skullbreaker, of course,” I said. “Excellent.” “Though…I don’t know if sand worms have skulls,” I said. “Maybe we should sharpen a rock and make a spear, in case I get swallowed and need to kill it from the inside.” “I doubt that will be requisite,” Chet said with a chuckle. “Say that when you’re in a sand worm’s gullet and I’m standing triumphantly on the corpse of mine, contemplating how to make a hat out of its skin.”
― Brandon Sanderson, Cytonic