I live in a cave. It’s a well-appointed cave with two big tables, sturdy chairs and a feather bed. It has geothermal heat and lighting courtesy of permanent fairy-fire globes. It could use an espresso machine, but other than that, it’s pretty sweet.
The cave’s most important furnishing, my prize possession, is a six-inch-diameter sodalite crystal ball imbued with telepathy. It is crucial for keeping track of opponents, secretive communication with a few members of the Elder Council, and reliable, omniscient narration.
They call me Interloper around here, but that’s not important. After all, this is not my story.
Click Follow to receive emails when this author adds content on Bublish