The second story in Jordan Anderson's new collection is a very different kind of tale from the first. We move from the cosmic horrors and too-easy conventions of Lovecraftian pastiche to a quirky tale of fantasy. The setting is one of those taverns in the wasted zone between the realms of Robert E. Howard, Fritz Leiber, and Terry Pratchett. Everyone is depraved, drunk, violent, or preferably all three. Not a chartered accountant in sight. Enter a youth who seems to be out of his depth among the brutal, canny company. But is he?
This story was apparently created as a result of a challenge thrown down by the author's writing group, and it shows. The tale is rich in atmosphere but a bit short on plot and characterisation. It's very violent, full of mighty oaths of the sweary kind, and has a sort of an ending. The final image is one that stayed with me, but more from incongruity than anything else.
Okay, maybe third time's the charm! Find out tomorrow what I think of the next story in The Things That Grow With Us.