3min chapter

The New Yorker: The Writer's Voice - New Fiction from The New Yorker cover image

Zach Williams Reads “Wood Sorrel House”

The New Yorker: The Writer's Voice - New Fiction from The New Yorker

CHAPTER

The Edge of the Wood Sorrel House

Jacob said he wanted to find the edge, if there was one. If it turned out that wood sorrel house was in the real world, then the edge would be a road or a town. Imagine if there were cities. The people in them might not be people exactly. There might be anything enough to fill lifetimes.rona ran her fingers through his hair. I tried to stick max with a sewing needle to day i wanted to see if i could hurt him, you know, feeling her voice shake, she bit her cheek. She waited, nothing but trees. It's all wilderness, miles and miles, no roads, nothing. Could you see us? Her mind ran over

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