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The Wistful AtlasThe box was brown, dented, and smelled of damp cardboard and old paper. It sat on the linoleum of my office at the Department of Missing Persons, a place that smelled of stale coffee and despair. I had been here for six years. I had seen enough to know that grief is just a chemical reaction that refuses to balance itself. But this box was different. Inside were not just documents, but pills....0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Wistful VoyageThe gate is locked. You know this. You have checked it three times. The iron is cold against your palm, slick with the morning dew that hangs heavy in the orchard. You are here to stop the boy. He is your son. He is also a thief, according to the ledger you hold in your other hand. The paper is damp. The ink is bleeding. Thomas stands by the cart. He is not looking at you. He is looking at the...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Pale ExileYou are not supposed to keep a garden in a cellar in the winter, not if you want to keep your mind intact, not if you want to sleep through the night without hearing the scratching of roots against the floorboards like the fingers of the dead trying to climb out of the earth to find the warmth that you have hoarded so jealously for yourself, yet here I am, Thomas, standing in the damp dark of...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Faded RuinThe glass shattered. Not with a sound, but with a sudden, violent absence of cohesion. Margaret stood in the center of the square, her hands empty. The shards hovered in the air, suspended in the grey, mist-thickened air of the Citadel. They did not fall. They waited. This was the nature of the place. Things broke here, but they did not end. They lingered. Margaret looked at her palms. They...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Pale BannerThe fog rolled in from the sea. It tasted of salt and iron. Captain Elias Thorne stood alone on the deck of the HMS *Perseverance*. The wood was wet. His hands were cold. He wore his uniform. The buttons were brass. They reflected the grey light. He was the senior officer. He had served for twenty years. He knew the ship. He knew the wind. He knew the limits of the hull. The *Perseverance* was...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Pale ShadowsThe gate was rusted, a skeletal thing of iron and decay that stood at the edge of the town like a broken tooth in the mouth of the earth. Clara stood before it, her fingers white-knuckled around the strap of her bag, listening to the silence that wasn't quite silent. It was a heavy, wet quiet, the kind that presses against the eardrums before a storm breaks, or after a funeral. The town of...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Faded RuinThe glass in the center of the table had not been broken for three days, yet the light refracted through it in a way that suggested a fracture, a hairline crack running from the rim to the base like a vein of dried blood beneath clear ice. Elias stood before it, his hands resting on the polished mahogany, the wood cool and smooth against his palms, a surface that felt more solid than the air...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Distant AffairThe frost had not yet melted on the windowpane when you woke, a thin lattice of ice that caught the grey morning light and threw it back in fractured shards. You lay still for a long moment, listening to the tick of the clock in the hallway, a sound that seemed to mark the passage of time in heavy, reluctant seconds. You were a restorer of clocks, a man who spent his days coaxed the internal...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Wistful PetalThe lozenge was blue, a shade of cobalt so deep it seemed to hold the night sky within its brittle, sugar-coated shell, and I held it in my palm as if it were a live bird, feeling the faint, cold pulse of its chemical promise against my sweat-slicked skin while the walls of the house, which had once belonged to my father and before him to his father, leaned inward with a heavy, wooden groan...0 Comments 0 Shares 3 Views 0 Reviews
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