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The Ballad of Lady Margaret's SkyshipThe lock was iron and official, stamped with the crest of Ishatoko & Sons, and it held the mooring mast of the Silver Iris fast as a grave. Lady Margaret Windsor stood on the wet cobblestones of Mayfair and watched the men in dark coats walk away, their boots echoing like a funeral march. She was twenty-eight years old, a widow of six months, and she owned nothing but a crumbling estate in...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 48 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
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The brass was still warm from the foundry when Margaret picked it up. She held it in both hands, feeling the weight of it, the smoothness of the letters that had just been cast into being: KNOWLEDGE IS THE GREAT EQUALIZER.November 1918. Chicago was reeling. The war was over but the flu was still killing people—hundreds a day, bodies stacked in warehouses because the cemeteries had no more room. Margaret Sullivan buried her husband Patrick on a Tuesday and returned to the clothing factory on Wednesday. She had three boys under sixteen and a three-room apartment on South Chicago Avenue. That night, after the boys...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 54 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
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The brass was still warm from the foundry when Margaret picked it up. She held it in both hands, feeling the weight of it, the smoothness of the letters that had just been cast into being: KNOWLEDGE IS THE GREAT EQUALIZER.November 1918. Chicago was reeling. The war was over but the flu was still killing people—hundreds a day, bodies stacked in warehouses because the cemeteries had no more room. Margaret Sullivan buried her husband Patrick on a Tuesday and returned to the clothing factory on Wednesday. She had three boys under sixteen and a three-room apartment on South Chicago Avenue. That night, after the boys...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 66 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
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The brass was still warm from the foundry when Margaret picked it up. She held it in both hands, feeling the weight of it, the smoothness of the letters that had just been cast into being: KNOWLEDGE IS THE GREAT EQUALIZER.November 1918. Chicago was reeling. The war was over but the flu was still killing people—hundreds a day, bodies stacked in warehouses because the cemeteries had no more room. Margaret Sullivan buried her husband Patrick on a Tuesday and returned to the clothing factory on Wednesday. She had three boys under sixteen and a three-room apartment on South Chicago Avenue. That night, after the boys...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 78 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
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The Disappearance of Margaret ChaseThe man who sat across from me had money and a problem and nobody calls a detective when they have money and a problem unless the problem is something the police cannot fix. "I need you to find her," he said. His name was Harold Voss. He was sixty, wore a suit that cost more than my car, and had the kind of face that had been made handsome by people who had lied about it for forty years. "Who...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 78 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
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The file was found by accident, which was how most important things seemed to turn out in Margaret Calloway's life.She had been流放 to the orbital ring's outermost platform—Platform Seven, a desolate outpost where the solar arrays were old and the funding had dried up five years ago. Officially, she was undergoing "professional reassignment." Unofficially, she had been exiled for questioning the Ring Government's official cosmological model, a model that stated simply and without qualification: the Ring was...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 65 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
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The first time Margaret O'Brien noticed the man in apartment 4B, she thought he was just another Brooklyn eccentric. Brooklyn was ...Maggie worked as a nurse at the Clinton Street Health Clinic, which meant she saw a lot of things that would make other people close their ears and walk faster. But the sickness that started spreading through Brooklyn in the spring of 1978 was different from anything she'd seen. It didn't start with a fever or a rash. It started with violence. One moment the person was fine--maybe a little...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 49 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
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The iron gates of Winterbourne Manor had not opened in three years. Not since the fog took Lady Margaret, and not since they locked Thomas away in the east wing where the gas lamps burned low and the servants whispered.Thomas did not mind the whispering. He had learned long ago that people who whispered could not reach you. He sat on the window seat of his chamber, legs too short to touch the floor, and watched the London fog press against the glass like a living thing. His hands were small and pink and smooth—the hands of a child of three. He flexed them and felt the strength that did not match their...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 48 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
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The iron gates of Winterbourne Manor had not opened in three years. Not since the fog took Lady Margaret, and not since they locked Thomas away in the east wing where the gas lamps burned low and the servants whispered.Thomas did not mind the whispering. He had learned long ago that people who whispered could not reach you. He sat on the window seat of his chamber, legs too short to touch the floor, and watched the London fog press against the glass like a living thing. His hands were small and pink and smooth—the hands of a child of three. He flexed them and felt the strength that did not match their...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 40 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
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The iron gates of Winterbourne Manor had not opened in three years. Not since the fog took Lady Margaret, and not since they locked Thomas away in the east wing where the gas lamps burned low and the servants whispered.Thomas did not mind the whispering. He had learned long ago that people who whispered could not reach you. He sat on the window seat of his chamber, legs too short to touch the floor, and watched the London fog press against the glass like a living thing. His hands were small and pink and smooth—the hands of a child of three. He flexed them and felt the strength that did not match their...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 53 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
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The Meridian of Margaret O'ConnorI. The dust didn't just fall in May 1934—it consumed. It came off the plains like a wall, yellow and thick and smelling of crushed grass and pulverized topsoil, swallowing the horizon and the sky and the light until noon looked like midnight and the wind carried the sound of a thousand sandstorms hitting the side of a house that was already losing. Margaret O'Connor stood in the doorway of the...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 42 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
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The Golden SuspectThey came for her on the morning the river swallowed the lower fields. Margaret Holloway was twelve years old. She stood at the kitchen window of her grandmother's house in Elmsworth, watching the floodwater creep across the garden with a patience that frightened her more than the wind. The rain had been falling for three days. The whole of the valley had turned the colour of weak tea. And...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 106 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
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