Coming To Terms_The Magic of the Mist_Harvey Fogg's Sequester_A Piece of a Liar
Catalog Guide:
Coming To Terms
The Aldritch Academy of Magic, Sorcery, and All Things Presently Unknowable was a menace. This was, of course, well-known by the citizens of Aldritch proper. No one had forgotten the incident three years past when an aspiring necromancer had accidentally raised all the dead buried on city grounds, which had led to a harrowing forty-eight hours where the deceased had outnumbered the living by an uncomfortable margin and had, in more than a few cases, decided to increase their numbers further by settling some old grudges before the necromancer had been able to set things right again. And, of co...
The Magic of the Mist
On a quiet morning, before dawn's first light, a young boy named Loto and his older brother, Hamuera, shuffle out of their home and head out into the darkness, following the path that leads through three miles of deep woods to the ocean. It is Saturday; they fish today. Their househwww.onedoor.ccold is one of only a handful of residents on the small island of Fetuilelagi, and they have the task of providing their family with enough fish to last the week. They walk down the small trail that was worn by the feet of their ancestors, in silence. It is too early for conversation. Young Loto trails behind his bro...
Harvey Fogg's Sequester
Harvey Fogg’s Sequester—George Davis R 3/10/21 Harvey Fogg’s a small man with a winsome smile, a chiseled chin accentuated by a rather large proboscis. One morning in May last year, he sat in his black leather recliner and immediately fell into the arms of Morpheus. Normally when Harvey rested in his recliner, he woke in an hour or two; got up, and went upstairs to bed. Not this time. He did not wake in an hour or a day for that matter. He was dead to the world. Harvey lived in the country suburb of Bickford in Cumberland Falls, Maine. It was so rural. His nearest neighbor was three miles awa...
A Piece of a Liar
Nighttime hadn’t yet draped the landscape with its onyx cloths. It was in fact only evening, and yet fireflies, their bodies surrounded by cool yellow spheres, weaved in and out of foliage. As they flew along their looping paths, they shed light on the dark teals and emerald greens in their vicinity, spun around strangely shaped flowers, and spiraled alongside lush vines that held tree trunks in an iron grasp. In their light, one could see small creatures navigating their way to home, or to food, before they were wrapped up again in velvety darkness. A family of red ants hiked over a mountain...