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Elizabeth C. Layne

Cover

I remember the first photo for my first book, the way my stomach
twisted into nervous knots, the tiny photo placement my agent chose
on the inside front Rap of the cover. I remember feeling like that
camera eye was only the first of thousands. I thought it was sad that
my face was tucked away on the interior of the book like that when it
should be on the back. On the front, maybe. Afi:er all, I wrote it,
didn't I? People needed to know that.
It's a good thing I was a vain guy, or right about now I'd be
seeing a lot of dark. Maybe the occasional Rash of light, but mostly
a lot of dark.
As it is, I see a lot of things. A lot of people browsing in
bookshops and libraries. A lot of bedroom ceilings, coffee shops,
Hoors, insides of purses. It's still dull, but it's better than
darkness.
I was a pretty famous guy. Back when I was alive, that is. Iwrote
these mystery novels, detective stories and murder stories. Whenever
I put a ghost in, it was fake or a dream or something. There were no
ghosts in my stories, really. I didn't believe in that shit.
Ha.
After that first book I always made sure they put my face on the
back cover. I had maybe twelve different portraits done, in black and

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