We will never again sit at the feet of our grandmothers and listen to their lores. Lores of virtuous men, of ghosts and spirits, of bravery and courage and of rabbits that talk. Fables have since perished in the hearth. Future grandmothers will be busy thinking of the cheapest places to get botox and so there will be no roaring fireplaces around which stories are told. And that’s cool too. Things have to change. Now we have the internet. And Bruno Mars.
I’m lighting my own small fire here. A place I will be able to tell my own short urban stories. I can’t promise there will be spirits in them, and if there are any, characters will drink them in bars with mood lighting. But there could be a random hare.
Welcome to my little publishing Fireplace. Let’s gather around and light the flames of modern lore.