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The Golden QuestAct I Wen Wang sat in the plastic chair of the hospital waiting room, the fluorescent light humming a low, electric note that drilled into his teeth. He was the mall Santa with the real beard, a job that had kept his pension fund from being raided until the audit came, and now he sat here while the doctors argued over a number on a screen. The air was still, the kind of heavy, pre-storm silence...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Wistful CrossroadsI, Estrid Strand, am thirty-four years old and I have not slept properly since the fog rolled into the northern cape. The wet season has not ended; it is a physical weight, pressing against the peat-burning fields until the air tastes of ash and rot. I sit in the methadone clinic, the morning light grey and flat, holding the eviction court date slip in my hand. The paper is soft from being...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Pale BonsaiThe dream of the split trunk had not faded by the time Kwesi Darko opened his eyes, the smell of wet wool and rusted iron already thick in the air of the staff canteen. He sat up, the linoleum cold against his bare feet, and saw Yaw standing in the doorway, arms crossed, his face a mask of professional indifference that felt heavier than any shout. Kwesi knew the look; it was the gaze of a man...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Faded MasqueradeChapter One Teodoro Urrutia’s hands were shaking as he pried open the swollen binding of the ledger, the paper soft and brown with damp, the smell of mildew sharp in his nose. He was forty-five, an archivist in the municipal library, a job that paid twelve pesos a week and required him to sit in a damp corner where the walls wept condensation onto the floorboards. The rain hammered against the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Golden MazeAct I The surveyors of the coast had been working for three days, their chains and theodolites stretching across the glacial valley like the ribs of a flayed beast. They measured the rock, the wind, and the debt owed to the Crown, turning the living land into a ledger of square feet to be sold to the highest bidder. I stood at the edge of the cliff, my hands heavy with the weight of the bronze...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Distant GardenThe ink was already wet on my thumb before I had finished unclasping the leather satchel, a dark, viscous bead that pulsed with the same slow rhythm as the candlelight in the scriptorium. I am Thomas Bradshaw, inquisitor of the southern diocese, and I had walked for three days through the sleet to arrive at the Abbey of St. Jude with a mandate that smelled of burnt paper and old blood. My want...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Wistful CrossroadsThe rain hammered against the slate roof of the old estate, a relentless drumming that seemed to sync with the beating of my own heart, which was not in my chest but in my hands. I held the quill with a grip that would have broken a lesser man’s fingers, the wood slick with sweat, as I watched Silas’s chest rise and fall with the shallow, rattling effort of a man drowning on dry land. He was...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Faded GuestThe shuttle hit the reed with a sound like a bone snapping. I caught it, my fingers numb, the wood slick with something dark and warm. It was blood. Not mine. I looked down at the warp threads, the grey cotton stretched tight across the loom, and saw a smear of rust-red where the shuttle had kissed the fabric. The air in the mill was thick, a brown slurry of dust and steam that coated the back...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Faded ParadoxThorne, you look like a man who hasn’t slept in a week, or perhaps longer, and if you’re going to stand in my doorway breathing on my dog, you’d better have a reason that doesn’t involve your pension. I stepped back from the threshold of Blackwood Manor, the cold October air biting at my exposed neck, and watched the constable, my friend and subordinate, cross his arms and glare at me with a...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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