Tomyris sank back into the old beige leather couch she inherited from her father and stared at the dark phone in her hand. There were no sounds from the phone. There were . . . it goes on – however, this piece is for writers.
There's a lot of stuff growing in The Land, but you've got to be a writer to see it all. We push a selection out to a superfeed for public viewership. The rest — along with replies and revisions — is workshop material.
