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The Faded RootThe coffee was bad, that was the first thing I noticed, a burnt, acrid sludge that tasted of burnt hair and broken promises. I sat in the corner of the sterile, white-tiled break room of the Federal Bureau of Investigation field office in Washington, D.C., watching the steam rise from the mug in a thin, wavering column. My hands were steady. That was the problem. After three years of wearing...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
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The Pale GardenThe carriage wheels bit into the frozen earth, a rhythmic grinding that sounded like the teeth of the old world chewing on the new. Margaret Ashworth sat in the corner, her body pressed against the window glass, watching the skeletal branches of the elms slide past in a blur of gray and white. She had traveled for three days. The journey was not a choice but a sentence, pronounced by the High...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
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The Wistful IncenseThe rain slicked the tarmac. Grey. Endless. Sergeant Elias Thorne wiped his visor. The glass fogged. He breathed in. Cold. Metal. Ozone. The road was a scar. Black asphalt. White lines. Fading. He walked. Boots on gravel. Crunch. Snap. The factory loomed. Rust. Red. Brown. Silence. Thorne checked his watch. 0400 hours. Shift change. He approached the gate. Chain link. Rusty. A figure stood...0 Comments 0 Shares 30 Views 0 Reviews
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The Wistful SagaThe frost came down hard. It came like a hammer. It broke the glass. It broke the sky. The ice cracked. The ice split. The ice shattered. I watched it go. I watched it break. The winter took the lake. The winter took the light. I was alone. I was cold. The cold was in my bones. The cold was in my mind. I had to work. I had to fix. The machine was broken. The machine was dead. I had to make it...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
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The Distant MachineThe train shudders to a halt in the grey belly of the city, a metallic groan that vibrates through the soles of your boots and settles deep in your marrow, a sound that feels less like machinery and more like the exhale of a dying god, and you step out into the rain that falls with a persistent, indifferent rhythm, soaking the coat you have worn for so long it has become a second skin, a second...0 Comments 0 Shares 5 Views 0 Reviews
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The Distant ClueYou dream of the tooth. It is a molar, large and yellowed. You pull it from your mouth with a wrench. The root is still there, buried deep in the gum. You keep digging. Blood fills your cheek. It is warm. It is metallic. You wake with a gasp. The ceiling is white. The light is gray. It is six in the morning. The house is silent. Your father is not in bed. He is in the workshop. You can hear the...0 Comments 0 Shares 35 Views 0 Reviews
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The Faded QuadrantYou hold the brass compass in your palm, the metal warm from the friction of your fingers and the heat of the sun that has been beating down on the dusty road for three hours, and you feel the weight of it, not just the physical ounces of brass and glass but the heavier, invisible load of the silence that has settled over your crew, a silence so thick and viscous it feels like you are wading...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
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The Golden GreenhouseThe iron gate was not closed, but it was heavy, and you knew that the weight of it was a kind of silence that had been waiting for you for a hundred years, perhaps two, perhaps the time it takes for a rusted hinge to finally surrender to the gravity of its own decay. You are standing in the courtyard of the Whitmore estate, or what remains of it, a place that exists in the negative space...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
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The Pale VerdictThe iron rain did not fall from the sky so much as it exhaled from the lungs of the city. It was a thick, greasy drizzle that coated the cobblestones of the Iron District in a film of soot, turning the world into a watercolor left out in the storm. I stood at the threshold of the Guild Hall, my hands still damp from the wash. The water had been hot, scalding, the kind that blisters the skin...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
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