1) Project 17 is featured in the December issue of SPEED Magazine! http://bit.ly/1jNUQnd
Go pick up a copy. :)
2) I will also have a column article in Speed Mag’s upcoming January 2014 issue. Something about robots. Watch out for it!
3) This photo from a friend, where my book sits beside Enrile’s inside Fully Booked’s Greenbelt branch.
4) This wonderful news: I will have a horror story called “Deliver Us” in Philippine Speculative Fiction vol 9! Can’t wait to share it with readers. :) PSF 9 is edited by Charles Tan and Andrew Drilon.
Here are the (unedited) opening paragraphs. I hope this excerpt will intrigue you enough to drop by the launch next year. Cheers!
Deliver Us
“It was an accident,” Lucas said, and I wasn’t sure if I should believe him, but he looked tormented enough, so down we went to lift Noelle between us in the dark, the headlights of his car the only glow to guide us, and dumped her like a sack of garbage in the backyard of a family who had left Santa Monica years and years ago, we couldn’t remember their name, their house an empty shell, their land overrun with weeds.
We fought before we lifted her. We cried. We covered our mouths in horror and disgust. We should take her to the hospital, I said, load her in the backseat and just drive. Even though I knew the nearest hospital was two hours away, and Noelle was already dead after the car hit her and ran over her body. We wanted to think we weren’t monsters, but it didn’t matter. Our grief, our early thoughts of taking her to safety, our reluctance to just leave her there – it didn’t matter, because we did leave her there. When we lifted her she was as light as a bird, the bones shifting beneath the skin. I remembered my hatred of lifting kittens, those ribs that I could feel beneath the fur, my irrational fear that my fingers could somehow pierce through their skin and hurt them.
Lucas wanted to leave her inside the empty house but I was smeared with blood, Lucas had already fallen once and had scratched his knees and legs, and I didn’t want to walk any longer. We left her on top of the tall weeds, the wild grass surrounding her like a wall.
End of excerpt. © Eliza Victoria
Eliza Victoria 