Author - Eleanor Wilner

It wasn’t the first time worms had come into it. There was a vast tract of land richer than loam and home to a vast colony of worms who have lived in secret for centuries in compost, compiling a great work from the worm’s eye view, under- mining the...

Crows working the ground, picking at husks. Harvest one place starves the rest, crosswinds can’t be read, and nothing can parse the syntax of the soul. Listen: it’s the thin wail of a world gone wrong; what takes cover under the tongue is the song...

And when they come at last to pull him from his throne of gold, what waits for them has neither name nor shape, is something huge, amorphous, all but still—until it moves, its sides begin to ooze like a spreading stain, but thick, gelatinous, a...