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The Wistful DinnerI woke with the taste of iron on my tongue, a metallic tang that coated the roof of my mouth like dried rust. It was a dream, or perhaps a memory of a dream, one where my hands were not my own. They were long, spindly, and ended in fingers that seemed to possess a life of their own, twitching and curling in the dark. I was in the cafeteria, that vast, humming hall of the institution where I...0 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 1 Views 0 previzualizare
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The Pale GardenThe air in the cellar tasted of wet stone and old copper, a metallic tang that coated the back of my throat and settled deep in my lungs. I sat on the cold flagstones, my hands resting in my lap, fingers interlaced so tightly that the knuckles turned white against the skin. For forty years, I had kept this room. It was the heart of the house, the place where the roots of the oak tree above...0 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 1 Views 0 previzualizare
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The Golden SongThe rain did not fall so much as it descended, a thick, grey curtain that erased the boundary between the sky and the cobblestones of the village square. Thomas Ashworth stood in the center of the wet stone, his back to the church door, his hands raised in a gesture that was no longer a defense but a surrender. The sound of the bells above him was not a ring but a groan, a low, resonant thrum...0 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 1 Views 0 previzualizare
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The Wistful IncenseThe smell of rotting turnips hit me before the door did. It was a thick, cloying scent, sweet and sulfurous, that clung to the wool of my coat and seemed to permeate the very air of the alley. I had come to the Ashworth manor to collect a debt, a small sum of thirty pounds that had accrued over three years of my quiet, invisible labor in their ledger room. I was not a man of grand ambitions,...0 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 1 Views 0 previzualizare
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The Wistful IncenseThe blade was stuck. It was jammed deep in the oak beam. Blood ran down the hilt. Red. Hot. Maggie’s hand shook. She pulled. It would not move. The room was small. Stone walls. Damp. Cold. A single window. High up. Moonlight. Pale. Thin. It cut the air. It cut the dust. It cut the fear. Maggie looked at the knife. She looked at the beam. She looked at her hand. The wound was deep. It pulsed. A...0 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 4 Views 0 previzualizare
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The Distant TempleThe air in the sub-basement of the Ashworth Institute for Applied Linguistics did not smell of old paper or damp stone, as one might expect in a repository of forgotten tongues. It smelled of ozone, heated copper, and the distinct, metallic tang of high-voltage electricity that had been pushed past its design limits. Elias Thorne sat in the center of the circular chamber, his spine pressed...0 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 1 Views 0 previzualizare
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The Wistful ShowIt was the way the moss grew on the north face of the great oak in the garden that first told me my mother was leaving, not the fever that burned in her cheekbones, nor the trembling of her hands as she held the iron spoon, but the green, velvet tongue of the lichen that crept upward with a slow, deliberate hunger, swallowing the bark whole just as the cold swallowed the warmth from her skin. I...0 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 38 Views 0 previzualizare
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The Golden MythThe morning the order came down, the sky over the valley was the color of a bruise, swollen and purple with the threat of rain that never quite broke. I stood at the edge of the ridge, watching the dust settle behind the convoy of men who were leaving, and I felt a hollowing out in my chest, a physical absence where my purpose had used to sit. They were going to the south, to the borderlands...0 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 1 Views 0 previzualizare
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The Pale FractureThe heavy oak door of the sanctuary did not creak, but it seemed to exhale, a long, slow breath of dust and dried lavender that settled over Margaret’s shoulders like a shroud. She stood in the threshold, her hand resting on the cold iron latch, her fingers trembling not from the chill of the stone floor but from the weight of the silence that had pressed against her eardrums for three days....0 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 32 Views 0 previzualizare
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