Filed under: short fiction
I was unpacking a box and discovered a piece of my own juvenilia. I was probably about 17 when I wrote that tale of a pompous unreliable narrator on an unsuccessful diplomatic mission. The characterization was what you’d expect from a teenager, the gender politics were interesting, and the pseudo-Egypt setting is the suck.
It might be interesting to rewrite this one after I finish the edits on the nightmare story. Hmm.