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How are the children now they are fed?

...is the question someone asked me in my sleep this morning, but I can't remember a dream associated with it. (The one I did have gave me an undercut bob and heavily-kohled eyes and I liked my face like that.) I woke up and there it was in my head, like a line from an old folk song. It needs a story as answer, and I don't think it can be anything but sinister.

I meant to announce this earlier in the week, but I've been busy with applying for jobs and editorial work: Supernatural Tales have accepted the first Nairns story, "To Utter Dust". It'll appear some time next year. I have no idea what to write next - not that my brain's blank, but I have a trove of fragments and images and no direction. Prompts and/or suggestions welcome if you have the time. Thanks if so. <3

Beers with John H tonight, thank God: the week's been a drudge and I've been too depressed lately to make much of anything.