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The Pale LetterThe mirror was breaking. It was a slow, jagged fracture that started at the top left corner and spider-webbed down toward the center, splitting the glass into a constellation of sharp, trembling shards. You stood before it in the high, drafty hall of the castle, your hands shaking so badly you could not hold the silver frame steady. The light from the single candle on the table flickered,...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Pale FractureThe fluorescent lights of the Sector 4 processing room hummed a low, electric note that seemed to vibrate in the marrow of Elias’s bones. He sat at the desk, his hands folded on the cold surface, watching the dust motes dance in the harsh white beam that cut through the stagnant air. Across from him, Margaret Holloway’s reflection stared back from the darkened monitor, a ghostly duplicate of...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Distant MachineThe letter was found not in the usual place, tucked behind a loose brick in the garden wall or pinned to the inside of the wardrobe door, but in the breast pocket of the wool coat that had been left on the back of the chair by the fire, a chair that had been empty for three days, a chair that now seemed to hold the weight of the entire house. It was a single page, folded twice, the paper...0 Comments 0 Shares 3 Views 0 Reviews
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The Wistful MountainHe woke with the taste of iron on his tongue. The dream had been thick. Dark. A forest of black pines bending under a sky the color of a bruise. In the dream, he was not old. His knees did not ache. His lungs did not rattle. He was a young man again. The leather of his holster was soft. The air smelled of pine sap and cold stone. He sat up. The blanket slipped off his chest. The cabin was cold....0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Distant AffairThe glass breaks before you understand why. One moment, the surface of the antique clock is whole, a perfect circle of ambered time. The next, it is a spiderweb of fractures, and the dust inside begins to settle. You stand in the center of the room, your hand still raised, the impact of the blow vibrating up your wrist and into your shoulder. The silence that follows is not empty. It is heavy,...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Pale BridgeThe coat was red. It was a violent, arterial crimson, the color of blood that had not yet cooled, and it hung on the back of a chair in the kitchen, waiting for a body that did not exist. You looked at it, and the looking was a physical act, a pulling of a thread. The room smelled of coal dust and damp wool, the scent of the industrial age settling into the pores of the wallpaper. Outside, the...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Distant ThresholdThe rain had been falling for three days, a relentless, gray weeping that turned the cobblestones of the old city into a slick, treacherous mirror of the sky, and I stood in the center of the great hall of the Ashworth estate, my boots sinking slightly into the mud that had seeped through the ancient cracks in the floor, watching the water drip from the high, vaulted ceiling in a rhythm that...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Faded DustThe bell in the steeple of St. Jude’s did not ring at noon, as was the custom, but tolled a single, mournful note at the hour when the light began to fail. It was a sound that seemed to rise not from the metal tongue within the tower, but from the earth itself, a vibration that settled in the marrow of the bones of everyone gathered in the square. I stood among them, a figure in the grey wool...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Golden ScarThe rain had not stopped for three days, a relentless, gray curtain that turned the cobblestones of the lower valley into slick, black mirrors where the sky seemed to drown, and it was in the thick of this downpour, with the mud sucking at his boots like a hungry mouth, that Caelen found the boy, or rather, the boy found him, stumbling out of the treeline with the hollow look of a creature that...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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