I have managed to get through the week without committing murder. No small feat there. But I am tempted to try out one of those little dolls at the feet of L’Envoûteuse. I may even be inspired to write a book about her and her charming poppet and call it Fifty Pin Sticks of Don’t Fuck with Me.
For my part, murder is more like books. I cannot seem to stop at just several hundred. Books, not murders. The latest in my writing collection is the three-volume Complete Guide to Writing Fantasy. My current project is not in the fantasy genre, but there is some great information about the craft of world building, which I am working on right now. The columns of my arcology community need populating with laws, customs, religion, reasons for dissent, wine. And murder. Someone always gets murdered.
And unlike tarantulas, wine goes quite nicely with murder. I am thinking a full-bodied red would be best.
I am currently enjoying the moderately warmer weather with a glass of Starborough Sauv Blanc from New Zealand. It puts me in the perfect frame of mind to consider how the murderer is going to dispose of that dead body in Caduceus.