You have kept the shawl in the hollow of the wall for one hundred and nine nights. On the hundred-and-tenth, it is no longer cloth.
You are a Warden of the Ashen Gate. Behind you, the city of Halverton lies under its coverlet of smoke. Before you, the moors roll like the gray flank of a sleeping beast. Your duty is to hold the gate against the Returned — the unblessed, the unburned, the ones...
The Wistful Dinner
Author: Edward Ashworth
The rain had been falling on Oakhaven for three days straight, turning the dirt roads into rivers of brown sludge and driving the remaining forty souls of the town into their houses like frightened mice. Eleanor Voss sat at the head of her dining table—a scarred oak thing her grandmother had brought over from Edinburgh in 1887—and watched the single...
Chief, I am writing this at the east window of the Fairchild Annex, where the rain has finally stopped for the first time in nine days, and I want you to understand that when I say the building is not what the file says, I am not offering you a metaphor. The Fairchild Annex is a three-story poured-concrete structure raised in 1957 on the northern floodplain of Port Ellery, and for forty years...
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