The Death of Old-Fashioned Death_The Unspoken Truths_The journey home_This or That
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The Death of Old-Fashioned Death
There are some nights meant to be dark and stormy, to fit the mood of the reader and the tone of the events destined to happen. A dark and stormy night is a powerful metaphor. One can liken the personality of a particularly shifty inpidual to that of a rainstorm or can provide in the story an obstacle to overcome. The stereotype is overdone, the phrase is dramatized, the words used for the amusement of the writer… and still. So, for all intents and purposes: It was a dark and stormy night. … Mary Whilladanger had been running her bar since her husband burned their finances to the ground, and s...
The Unspoken Truths
THE ANALYST ran her pale fingers over the intricate grooves covering the crystalline surface of the recovered airship lacrima, rousing the souls stored within. Shareholders—wearing fine silk robes, cascades of jewelry, and colorful Sashes of station—whispered into their sleeves while others made a show of pointing out the soul-shards placed before each seated attendant. Opposite the Analyst, far at the head of the bustling boardroom table, a sash-less greybeard glowered at her, unwavering. Above him, the stuffed and mounted head of an ursoka bared its lifeless fangs.Then the greybeard clapped ...
The journey home
Jenny looked at her watch. Just made it. She’d been lucky to make it onto the train. With the weather the way it was this November evening, meant there were plenty of others in the same position as her, trying to make their way out of London on the 5、05 train to Birmingham. Dark already, it had been a hell of a miserable day. The wind was already mounting and had several times turned her umbrella inside out on the way to the station. She had left it in the nearest rubbish bin, resolving to buy another as soon as possible. Now darkness had fallen and a fog was settling in, making visibility alm...
This or That
This or ThatThis was supposed to be the best day of their lives, and now…?“Doesn’t it always seem to be the case, that just when you reach for that last cookie you’d been fantasizing about all day, it is… “Yup! And I’m really sorry about that. I had no idea it was the last one. I have to admit, I never even looked into the jar. There’s something about that face on your pig cookie jar, that makes me feel creepy. So I don’t spend anymore time in its presence than necessary. I usually lift the top of its head with my eyes closed, and then reach into its dark confines and grab the first thwww.onedoor.ccing I to...