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The Faded AlibiThe rain did not fall. It hung. It suspended in the air like a gray curtain, thick and wet, smelling of wet wool and old pennies. Captain Elias Thorne stood in the back of the ambulance. The vehicle was small. Too small. The walls pressed in. The siren wailed a low, mournful note that vibrated in his teeth. He held the jar. It was a mason jar, thick glass, filled with rainwater. Inside, a...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Faded MasqueradeThe carriage wheels groaned against the cobblestones, a rhythmic, skeletal sound that matched the hollow ache in my stomach. I sat alone in the back, clutching my leather satchel to my chest, feeling the weight of the vials inside. Inside, the spirits swirled like trapped moths, their luminescence pulsing against the dark glass. I was tired. Not the bone-deep fatigue of sleeplessness, but a...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Wistful ShowThe rain did not fall so much as it was exhaled by the low, bruised sky, a constant, wet sigh that soaked into the wool of my greatcoat and chilled the marrow of my bones. I stood at the edge of the blackwater, the mud of the riverbank sucking at my boots with a desperate, living hunger, and I felt the weight of my own hands pressing against the sides of my chest. They were heavy, these hands...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
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The Pale LetterIn the dream, the cellar was not a cellar but a throat, vast and wet with the damp breath of the earth, and Eleanor stood at the bottom of it, holding a loaf of bread that was warm as a living thing, her hands slick with the sweat of a life that had been slowly, systematically stripped of its name. The stone above her was not stone but the face of her father, or perhaps the face of the...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
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The Golden DowntownThe banquet hall smelled of roasted boar and old stone, a thick, cloying aroma that seemed to settle in the back of my throat, blocking the air I tried to draw in. We were gathered in the great hall of the castle, the torchlight flickering against the high, vaulted ceilings, casting long, trembling shadows that danced across the faces of the lords and ladies. It was a night of feasting, of wine...0 Comments 0 Shares 3 Views 0 Reviews
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The Faded MasqueradeThe soup was cold. Mara held the spoon. It trembled. The cafeteria smelled of bleach and boiled cabbage. It was the smell of the Institution. Not a school. Not a hospital. A place where things were sorted. Where people were weighed and measured and found wanting. Mara was found wanting. She ate. The broth was thin. It tasted of salt and regret. Across the table, Julian smiled. It was a sharp...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Wistful MirrorThe train hissed into the station of Aylesbury, a long, shuddering exhalation that seemed to drain the very breath from the November air. I stepped onto the platform with the heavy, rhythmic thud of boots that I had not heard in six months, a sound that belonged to a life I had left behind in the trenches of the Somme but which now echoed in the hollows of my ribs. The stationmaster, a man...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
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The Pale BannerThe iron gate was cold. It cut into my palm. I held on. The stone wall rose above me, grey and slick with rain. Inside, the courtyard was silent. No birds. No wind. Just the smell of wet mud and old blood. I am Aldric. I am the Warden. I stand alone. The others are gone. They walked out through the lower arch. They left me. They left me with the seal. The seal is a circle of black stone. It is...0 Comments 0 Shares 3 Views 0 Reviews
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The Wistful VoyageThe air tasted of copper and old rain. I stood on the bridge. The fog was thick. It swallowed the bow. It swallowed the wake. I held the wheel. My hands were steady. They had to be. The ship was not wood. It was bone. The planks were ribs. The hull was a spine. We sailed on a sea of grey mist. There was no horizon. Only the white. "Captain," a voice said. It was Silas. He stood behind me. His...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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