Boyd Isitt
Bio
My name's Boyd. I write fiction. I do so because I like to try and understand, and be understood.
Stories (3)
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Twisted and Bittersweet
There had been snow that week, and this morning the sky seemed heavy with the same. The swollen grays and whites above did little to redeem the surrounding concrete tenement blocks, which rose stolidly upwards from crumbling 5-a-side football pitches and bare, withdrawing forecourts.
By Boyd Isitt5 years ago in Fiction
So Moves The Blossoming Mountain
Extract from ‘The Mani Wars of Antiquity’, Chapter 7: Undertows The great thread of slums that fester beneath almost all of the floating cities are formed when the Upperworlds are wrenched up and out of the ground. Often flanked by sunken cliffs that rise up to meet the underside of the hovering domes above them, these unfortunate Undertows see little natural sunlight and are sunken, vice-riddled places. Where fizzing coal plant quarters belch pollution across some of these opaque favelas, others are illuminated almost entirely by torchlight. But what sticks with you, above all, is the sharp and fetid stench of their filthy, rancid streets and the cut-purse mentality of its many thousand whore-born children.
By Boyd Isitt5 years ago in Fiction
