Fishbowl Time

ysabetwordsmith is having her fishbowl today!

The theme is Urban Fantasy

Some of the prompts I left included:

Suburban, or sub-urban, fantasy (either the burbs, which are much neglected except in built-the-burb-on-the-graveyard, or subterranean(*) urban fantasy)

(*) which wants to be sub-terrarium, which makes me think of the locker creatures in Men in Black II, and a universe in the bottom of a terrarium.

The results of the divinations in Tumble the Nuts

My favorite sort of urban shaman uses painted designs, on skin and as graffiti.

Urban werewolves, yes, technodawgz.

High-rise fantasy, not just down-on-the-street grit but up-in-the-corporate-office magic: what if the fortune-500 CEO is a shaman?

Pittsburgh. This city was so full of stone churches stained black by soot (we almost died, too, but that was the con).

Atlanta, where the hobos all had NYC accents.

Rochester, my hometown, haunted by the ghost of George Eastman, who founded Kodak and invented disposable cameras, where Billy the Kid and Susan B. Anthony are buried one hill away from each other (Fredrick Douglass gets front-row seating by the main street) It’s a rust-belt city where they say you can develop film in our river and the WPA-era library literally sits atop said river.

The streets, and I’m babbling, because I miss my hometown, are laid out on old cowpaths. If you look at an old map of the city, you could easily believe that it’s laid on occult symbols, the way they say DC was.

And, of course, the Erie Canal runs through it, and, a few miles away, the old locks (from the original route) are still visible, little stone arches over fetid puddles of water.

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