Arthur Smith

Arthur Smith Ajouter une nouvelle offre d'emploi Literature
2026-05-26 09:51:21 -

The Fluorescent Corridor
The bell on the door rang at 2:17 a.m. Frank looked up from the magazine. A man walked in. He smelled like whiskey and rain. "I need a pack of Marlboro," the man said. Frank took them from behind the counter. He put them on the counter. The man put a five-dollar bill on the counter. Frank counted the change. He put the change on the counter. The man took the cigarettes and the change and walked...

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Arthur Smith Ajouter une nouvelle offre d'emploi Jeux
2026-06-01 20:27:14 -

The Miner's Lamp
Act I - The Lamp Dale Harper clocked in at 5:47 AM. The clock was digital, green numbers on a black background, and it was located in the lobby of Harlan No. 4 Mine, which sat on a hill above the town of Harlan, West Virginia, which was not really a town anymore but a collection of houses strung along a valley like beads on a broken necklace. Dale was forty-two years old. He had been mining for...

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Arthur Smith Ajouter une nouvelle offre d'emploi Jeux
2026-05-23 10:47:59 -

PEGASUS IN THE FOG
The fog rolled in from the Pacific at dusk, turning San Francisco into a city of ghosts. Sam Drake stood on the corner of Powell and Geary, watching the streetcars emerge from the gray like phantom ships, their bells muffled by the mist. He was waiting for a client who was already twenty minutes late. Sam was a private investigator, though the term suggested a glamour that his work rarely lived...

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Arthur Smith Ajouter une nouvelle offre d'emploi Jeux
2026-05-26 19:44:31 -

The Observer at Omaha
I first met General Marcus Hale on a Tuesday in March, 1946, at the Omaha military installation where I was assigned as his new aide-de-camp. I was twenty-four, fresh out of the Army Intelligence division, and I carried myself with the particular brand of nervous competence that comes from knowing you've been chosen for a job that's one size too big. Marcus Hale stood six feet two in his boots...

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2026-05-29 23:56:21 -

The Keeper of the Blackwood Wilds
The wind across the Blackwood moors did not blow so much as it hunted, finding every gap in Angus MacAllister's coat, every weakness in the stone walls of the house that had been his family's for three hundred years. He stood at the window of the library, watching fog roll down from the peaks like a slow tide, and wondered whether the dead were happier in their certainty than the living were in...

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Arthur Smith Ajouter une nouvelle offre d'emploi Jeux
2026-05-27 18:46:39 -

The Observer
New York City, 2008 I got the call on a Tuesday, which is the kind of detail that would make a novelist proud but makes me want to laugh. There is nothing cinematic about the end of the world. It comes on a Tuesday, in a phone call, from a number you don't recognize. My name is Mark Delaney, and I am an associate professor of astrophysics at City College of New York. I am thirty-four years old,...

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Arthur Smith Ajouter une nouvelle offre d'emploi Literature
2026-06-01 08:09:18 -

The Mirror of the Unseen
(Second Person Variation) You wake up in a room that is not yours, though every object in it feels like a memory you've forgotten. The walls are a faded ochre, peeling like sunburnt skin. There is a mirror in the corner, but when you look into it, you don't see your face. You see a blur of motion, a smudge of charcoal against a white background. You don't remember your name. You only remember...

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2026-05-29 03:29:06 -

The Rust Belt
The shipyard closed on a Tuesday in November. I was there that morning, like always, because habit is the last thing to leave a man when everything else has gone. The gates were already locked—padlock new, chain thick, the kind of lock that means they're not coming back. I stood in front of it for a while, breathing in the cold air that smelled like rust and old coal and something else I...

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2026-05-30 17:53:58 -

The Bastard's Cathedral
(Act I: The Ash and the Iron) The year was 1422, and the valley of Oakhaven was a graveyard of burnt villages and broken crosses. Cedric, the bastard son of a disgraced Earl, returned to his ancestral lands not with a plea for forgiveness, but with a sword of cold iron. He had spent ten years in the mercenary camps of the East, learning that the only true law was the edge of a blade and the...

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2026-05-21 09:51:48 -

The Observer at Five Points
I first met him in the basement of a church on Park Row, where the Five Points intersection spat its poorest onto the street and the church basement offered dry bread and a place to sit that was not wet. He was sitting alone at a scarred wooden table, studying a map of New York City as if it were a chessboard. He was perhaps thirty-five, dressed in clothes that were well-made but strange—the...

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2026-05-29 11:44:30 -

The Black Signal
I. The package arrived on a Tuesday, wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine, postmarked from nowhere I recognized. There was no return address. No note. Just my name, Jack Morretti, written in a hand that looked like it had been trained in a monastery and then ruined by whiskey. I opened it at the bar—Sal's Place, a dimly lit hole on Sunset Boulevard where the beer was warm and the patrons...

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2026-05-27 01:15:22 -

The Black Strain
Dorothy Wayne walked into my office like she was walking onto a movie set, which she was, in a way. The rain was coming down hard on the windows of my building on Sunset Boulevard, and the blinds were casting stripes of light and shadow across the desk, across her coat, across the face she had spent ten years learning how to sell to an audience that no longer cared. "Help me with something,...

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