Micah Webber’s Reviews > A Long Long Way > Status Update
Micah Webber
is on page 141 of 292
But he fell down between the boards of memory and sleep like a penny in an old floor. He lay there in the dust of nowhere, sunken and alone.
— Jul 16, 2026 05:15AM
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Micah Webber
is on page 247 of 292
Oh, it was darker now in the room. There was a poison slipping easily through Willie's veins. The poison of disappointment and new horror. Never in all his days had he seen his father so chill and strange, the deep voice corrupted by anger, sounding like the terrifying voice of a stranger, of another. Never in his life had he even heard any such speech from his father, using words out of parades and ceremonies.
— Jul 22, 2026 07:39PM
Micah Webber
is on page 126 of 292
The water touched them like a mother, soothing their backs and legs, and flowed around their genitals like the long hair of a lover.
“Jesus, that’s better,” said Christy Moran.
“Fucking hell,” said McNaughtan.
“Holy Mother Church and all her saints,” said Smith.
“For the love of Jesus and his Divine Mother and the Holy Ghost too into the bargain,” said another slightly submerged voice.
— Jul 14, 2026 06:15AM
“Jesus, that’s better,” said Christy Moran.
“Fucking hell,” said McNaughtan.
“Holy Mother Church and all her saints,” said Smith.
“For the love of Jesus and his Divine Mother and the Holy Ghost too into the bargain,” said another slightly submerged voice.
Micah Webber
is on page 3 of 292
“That was the night of a storm that would not be a famous storm. But. . . it drove the wet harvest along the gutters and into the gaping drains and down into the unknown avenues of the great sewers. The blood of births was sluiced down there too, and all the many liquids of humanity, but the salt sea at Ringsend took everything equally.”
— Apr 25, 2026 09:12PM
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Jul 16, 2026 06:29AM
Millions must push back millions. The Kaiser sent his myriad boys, the King of England his. Great troops of women followed, to bandage, bolster and bury. And all of England, and all old empires, British, Austro-Hungarian, Prussian, the empires of halfpenny lives and the hungry, sad kings and commoners all party to the same haze, strained for news, and the mountains stood away, and a thousand widows wore their black ribbons in Ireland on their arms, and were treated kindly in the main, with whispered sympathy and whatever was left of wise words. Because the box of wise words was emptying.
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He felt like there were lice in his blood; his arms were uncomfortable. He had wanted for a moment to embrace Jesse Kirwan like you might a child, but he hadn’t, and so his arms were aching.
He thought Jesse Kirwan was all twisted up in a rope of his own making; he knew he was. He had made a trap for himself in the wood of his own heart. He was the snare, the rabbit, and the hunter all in one.