Sweeping lights to Soggy rocks_The Nomads_Somewhere Getting Gone_Some Things Never Change
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Sweeping lights to Soggy rocks
Long blasts of boat horns lauded the quest of numbing winds leaving the calm lands for restless seas. Star-studded horizons and wavering waters had already merged together in the face of stark darkness. Foaming waves continued its relentless crashing on to the gritty shores. Tommy shrugged and rubbed his palms together as he hurried along a road past the main gates of National Coast Guard buildings, towards the armory counter. Large beams of light shooting from the eye of the lighthouse, skipping and sweeping the waters was a thing to watch. He walked on. It was going to be his first night at...
The Nomads
No one alive remembered the ‘Great Burn’, it was ancient history now that morphed and lost its truths as it moved from tongue to tongue. The one thing that remained constant in its tellings was that the event was frightful and countless many died, without leaving so much as bones behind. That day everything burned, with ferocious flames, with intense heat, and without prejudice. It must have been a hundred years ago, maybe two hundred years ago, but it shaped and altered what was left behind. And it had left very little behind; just a few lost people with nothing much. It was the fifth Sol of ...
Somewhere Getting Gone
Thursday, 1/1/151:32AM In retrospect, I don’t know why I thought that eight months of delivering pizza was going to make me an expert on the highway interstate system. I mean, I’ve memorized the backroads of Williston damn near as well as I know the winding valleys of freckles spotting my face and limbs. I know North from South; East from West. I know who Dwight D. Eisenhower is. What else is there to know, really? Wrong. It’s not a convenient moment to be humbled, frankly. I don’t have the time. I waited until the grandfather clock struck twelve before I left (how poetic of me). Wren was knoc...
Some Things Never Change
“I’ll take this.” Tanner slid a worn parchment on the long counter top. A spindly bald man in a greasy apron eyed him. “That there is a bounty for a night-terror.” he trailed off. Tanner followed the man’s eyes to his dented artificial leg. Metal bones fused to his left leg’s stump. Tanner swung his cloak over it.“Never seen a cripple in your tavern before?”“Not one who could walk.” He scoffed.“Ten gold now, and the remaining ninety pieces when I bring back its head.” Tanner said.“By the prophet, I ain’t losing ten. You bring me it’s head andwww.onedoor.cc I'll give the whole hundred.”Tanner grimaced. “Wha...