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Under My Hat

"Shortlisted for the World Fantasy Awards, these eighteen spellbinding tales from top authors have been brewed together for the witching hour..."
Under My Hat – picture

Shortlisted for the World Fantasy Awards, these eighteen spellbinding tales from top authors have been brewed together for the witching hour…

A stellar cast of acclaimed fantasy writers weave spellbinding tales that bring the world of witches to life. Boasting over 70 awards between them, including a Newbery Medal, five Hugo Awards and a Carnegie Medal, the authors delve into the realms of magic to explore all things witchy… From familiars that talk, to covens that offer dark secrets to explore, these are tales to tickle the hair on the back of your neck and send shivers down your spine.

Be truly spooked by these stunning stories by Diana Peterfreund, Frances Hardinge, Garth Nix, Holly Black, Charles de Lint, Tanith Lee, Neil Gaiman, Ellen Klages, Ellen Kushner, Delia Sherman, Patricia A. McKillip, Tim Pratt, M. Rickert, Isobelle Carmody, Jane Yolen, Jim Butcher, Peter S. Beagle and Margo Lanagan.

Publication Date: Thu 3 Oct 2013
ISBN Paperback: 9781471400858

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The witch- she could hardly be anyone else, with her wild torrents of tangled gray hair, complete with autumnal dead leaves stuck in the locks, and her faded blue housecoat decorated with hand- painted golden stars and silver moons- walked slowly through the forest of people, touching them on the tops of their carved heads, occasionally taking off a sliver of wood here and there with the knife in her hand. In her other hand she held a paint- spattered tin can with a paintbrush sticking out. She had her back to Carlos, so he stayed still, watching, as she folded the knife and put it in her pocket, then drew the paintbrush from the can. The witch daubed a bit of flesh tone onto the cheeks of one of the unfinished statues, then dipped the brush into the can again and painted in red lips, then dipped again and painted on brown eyebrows- how did she get three different colors from one little can of paint, without even rinsing the brush in between? He began to feel he was being watched, and glanced around, hoping to see Maria- but instead he saw himself, or a carving of himself, right at the edge of the forest of figures, dressed in the same sweatshirt he was wearing right now, staring at him with a carved expression of comical surprise.