I’m happy to announce the release of Volume Two of Old Bones, the literary journal of Henlo Press.

Inside that cool cover you’ll find a bunch of stories (and other stuff) from writers from my neck of the woods – including me!

The story is called “Chord Change” and it’s based on an idea that’s been hanging around my brain for a while – what if someone’s solemn duty was to listen to the everlasting chord generated by the universe or the gods or whatever and the chord suddenly changed. The key to turning it into a story was to not make the listener the main character. Rather, it’s the guy she ropes into trying to help her talk back.

Here’s a snip:

Over the years, Kluvier had built up a repertoire of dozens of songs, from folk songs to cult hymns and chants. He would never be able to play with Andra’s finesse, but he had the ability to hear a song a few times, play it once, and then forever be able to retrieve it.

His first hour was always the same, a way to warm himself up and to gauge his audience. Some days the more modern, popular music was what people wanted. Other times the long, slow chords of cult hymns that had soaked into wider culture of the years provided the perfect background. Once that was out of the way, and Braax had his first break of the day, Kluvier would let his fingers wander, dipping in and out of known songs while taking tangents of variations on themes. During another break he heard a woman pass by whistling an odd-metered tune he’d never heard before. He worked on it, and several variations, for most of the next hour.

The predicted rain held off, which kept the traffic consistent. The coins dropping into the box were few and far between, but as the sun started fall behind the Great Library they at least started to clink against each other nicely when a new one was thrown in.

Kluvier let Braax off his turnwheel to attack a small bowl of water while he knelt and started counting the coin. He hoped to get everything counted and packed away before Valnu showed up to take his cut again. Kluvier was just about done when a human-shaped shadow fell across the box. Kluvier cursed under his breath, then a bag of coin thudded to the ground beside the box. He looked up.

“Is that enough?” It was Shyana. She was breathing hard and her robes, which had been so well put together yesterday, were dirty and mussed. There was a bruise starting to blossom under her left eye.

“What happened to you?” Kluvier grabbed the bag and stood.

“I did what I had to,” she said. “Is that enough?”

For more of that, as well lots of other great stuff, get your copy of Old Bones Volume Two here or here.