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The Distant JokeAct I "Requisition for Pension: Denied. Reason: Excessive Loyalty constitutes a threat to State Security." The ink on the parchment was still wet when the clerk handed it to me, the paper heavy with the weight of my own signature. I am Marisol Arellano, thirty-two, and for ten years I have kept the peace in the salt flats, where the drought has shrunk the inland sea to a crust of white nothing....0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Faded PortraitThe notice on the counter read: SBA Loan Default. Final Notice. Shumin Hu wiped his hands on a rag that had seen better decades, the grease mixing with the wet snow tracked in from the street. The smell of the kitchen was sharp, a blend of burnt oil and the damp, metallic tang of the rust-belt air that seeped through the cracked window frames. He was thirty-four, the owner of this juke joint in...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Distant TempleMud sucked at Xochitl Beltrán’s boots as he waded through the flooded street of San Miguel, the rifle barrel heavy in his hands, the ancient temple humming behind him with a frequency that cracked his teeth. He was thirty-four, a sergeant with the rank pinned crooked on his wet wool coat, and he wanted the rebel leader hiding in the sanctum to secure his promotion and end the siege. The air...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Distant PromiseIn the fog that eats the sound of bells, the city holds its breath. Lourdes Ocampo stood in the lobby of the courthouse, the linoleum sticky under his boots, watching the dust motes swirl in the grey light that filtered through the high, barred windows. He was thirty-two, a dairy tester by trade, though his hands were stained with the black sap of the storage-unit auction lot he had purchased,...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Distant LegendThe leather strap of the satchel bit into Elias’s shoulder, a dull ache that pulsed in time with his heartbeat. He stood on the platform, twelve years old and too thin for the heavy wool coat his mother had stitched for him, watching the steam from the locomotive hiss against the cold air. In his hands, he clutched the object that had cost his father his life and now threatened to cost Elias...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Golden MazeAct I "You hold the blade wrong," the Warden said. His voice was flat, stripped of any warmth, just a dry click in the back of the throat. Voula Ioannidis stood in the center of the Obsidian Hall, her feet planted in the dust that had settled over the brass tiles. The air smelled of ozone and old pennies. She raised the sword, the steel catching the dim light from the high windows. The Golden...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Distant JourneyThe question was whether the border held, or whether they did. Joana Pinto, thirty-two, a warden of the northern ridge, carried a certified letter in her coat pocket, its edges worn soft from the friction of her walk. She had not seen her husband, Rafael, in six months, not since the settlement of the class action over the landfill gas leaks had drained the town’s coffers and his patience. The...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Distant BladeThe backwaters of Kerala did not care for the harvest; the water simply rose, swallowing the paddy fields and the debts tied to them. Anil Verma stood on the jetty, his boots sinking into the mud, watching the lighthouse blink its red eye against the gray sky. He was thirty-two, a junior archivist in the Imperial Bureau of Records, and his hands were stained a deep, rusty brown that no amount...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Golden RitualThe gold seeped from the wallpaper, a wet, metallic stain spreading across the parlor’s faded floral print. Iolo Hopkin stood by the window, the slate roof of their ancestral hall groaning under a gale that rearranged the harbor below. His mother lay in the chair, her breath shallow, her eyes fixed on the bleeding wall. "Do the ritual," she whispered. "Save me." Act I Iolo wanted to save her....0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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