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  • Format: ePub

A gospel of fire. A reckoning in lipstick.
The Republic is burning. Its banners curl to ash, its hymns rot in their pews, and its ghosts laugh in the rafters. At the center is Clementine-the erased girl, the lipstick hymn, the hum that refuses silence.
She doesn't march with armies or kneel at altars. She cracks marble with a laugh, smears decrees with lipstick, and turns every courtroom, chapel, and schoolhouse into her stage of ruin.
The villains of this Republic-the Gilded Hog, the Widow of the Schoolhouse, the Ash Baron-strut through their empire of rot, believing themselves
…mehr

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Produktbeschreibung
A gospel of fire. A reckoning in lipstick.

The Republic is burning. Its banners curl to ash, its hymns rot in their pews, and its ghosts laugh in the rafters. At the center is Clementine-the erased girl, the lipstick hymn, the hum that refuses silence.

She doesn't march with armies or kneel at altars. She cracks marble with a laugh, smears decrees with lipstick, and turns every courtroom, chapel, and schoolhouse into her stage of ruin.

The villains of this Republic-the Gilded Hog, the Widow of the Schoolhouse, the Ash Baron-strut through their empire of rot, believing themselves eternal. But Clementine walks their corridors. She stains their laws. And when she sings, their crowns fall to ash.

Part Southern Gothic elegy, part drag show in Hell's own chapel, Ashes of a Red Republic is a blistering fusion of poetry, allegory, and gospel. Alestria Fawnwell delivers a fearless novel that reads like scripture written in smoke and glitter-equal parts curse and resurrection.

They'll tell you not to read this book.

That's how you'll know you must.


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Autorenporträt
Alestria Fawnwell writes like a funeral in velvet and speaks like she's been haunting her own story for years. Born of bloodlines better left unnamed, she rose from addiction and ashes to pen tales soaked in glamour, grief, and dark inheritance. Her Southern Gothic novels pull no punches and wear no pearlsthey come for the family secrets with stilettos on. Alestria believes in lipstick as warpaint, truth as rebellion, and stories that dare to unbury what others fear to name.

When she's not conjuring up twisted legacies, she's sipping milk tea on a haunted porch and stress-shopping for lace at midnight.