Because Chuck Wendig knows when you are sleeping, he knows when you’re awake. He knows what you do when your alone and he records it all on tapes.
The Gods of Blackbloom <—- Writers who want a fun treat, go do this.
I did. Of course I did not follow the rules, but I enjoyed it none-the-less.
“My name’s Mistral and I’m the true god of Blackbloom; the rest are pretentious, quantum smears in the small clothes of reality. I flow through the veins of the living and unliving things of this world alike, sweet filth. Only I am pure. Sword of the solider, shiv of the whore, noose of the gallows, the shaking hands of the father whose child lays cold. Justice isn’t blind, it’s an abstract lie. In Blackbloom, Deaths hand can’t redress wrongs and balance the books of justice; and so beyond the grave all come to me, filled with a dark need. Revenge!”
I love little brain teasers like this.