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The Faded GuestMara sat on the edge of the bed. The silk was cold against her thighs. It was a blue so deep it looked like a bruise on the skin. She had worn it for forty years. It had been her wedding dress. Now it was just a thing that clung to her, heavy with the dust of rooms she no longer entered. The room was not a room. It was a stretch of grey mist that breathed. The air tasted of iron and old paper....0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Golden CrossingThe iron taste of the blood in your mouth is not your own, and you know this with a certainty that precedes thought, a knowing that sits in the marrow like a cold stone. You are kneeling in the mud of the courtyard, the rain slicking your hair back from your forehead, and before you lies the body of the man you were sent to execute. The sword, heavy with the weight of centuries of violence,...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Distant JokeThe rain was not falling so much as it was being thrown, a violent, horizontal assault that turned the cobblestones of the Royal Plaza into a slick, black mirror where the gaslights bled their yellow light into the wet darkness, and I stood there, my boots soaking through, my coat heavy with the stench of the market, watching the figure who had once been my brother, and now was the King, stand...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Golden CellarThe flood came at night. It did not announce itself with rain or thunder. It simply arrived, a black tide rising from the cellar steps, swallowing the floorboards whole. I stood on the top step, my hands gripping the railing until the wood splintered against my palms. The water was warm. It smelled of wet earth and old iron. My name is Thomas. I was nine. The house was old. Older than me. Older...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Faded AlibiThe dream has no floor, only a suspension of grey dust motes drifting in the static air of the attic, and you are floating there, suspended by the weight of a silence so thick it tastes like iron filings, while your mother’s face is a blurred smudge of exhaustion and fear hovering just out of reach, her mouth moving in shapes that spell out a warning you cannot yet hear. You wake with the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Faded RuinThe gate is open. You walk through it. The iron teeth are cold against your knuckles. You are leaving. The sky is the color of a bruise. Grey. Heavy. It does not look like the end. It looks like a pause. You carry your cloak. It is heavy with rain. The air smells of wet stone and old blood. You are a guard. You have been a guard for ten years. You know the weight of a sword. You know the weight...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Pale TowerThe rain did not fall so much as it hung in the air, a fine, cold mist that clung to the wool of Sir Alistair’s cloak and seeped into the bone. He walked alone along the King’s Road, the mud sucking at his boots with a rhythmic, wet sound that seemed to echo the hollow drumming in his chest. The forest on either side was a tangle of grey bark and leafless branches, a skeletal framework against...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Wistful AshesThe wind bites. It has teeth. You feel them on your cheeks. Sharp. Cold. You are running. The gravel crunches under your boots. It sounds like breaking bones. You do not stop. You cannot stop. The road is long. It stretches into the gray mist. The mist is thick. It swallows the horizon. You are alone. You have always been alone. The weight on your back is heavy. It is not a pack. It is a bag of...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Golden MythThe fog rolled in from the harbor, thick as wet wool, swallowing the gas lamps of Blackfriars Lane one by one until the world was nothing but a grey, breathing void. "Did you take it with you?" asked Arthur, his voice thin and reedy against the damp air. He stood in the doorway of the textile mill, his coat buttoned wrong, his eyes wide with a terror that had no logical anchor. Eleanor did not...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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