Et Tradidit_The Hovering Age_Cosmic doppelgangers'._The Arrival of the Grym
Catalog Guide:
Et Tradidit
Standing there, with my sword in hand I sighed as I looked at Heldr. He was tired, I could tell that much just by looking at him. He was panting, the massive claymore that he wielded clenched by the hilt in a shaking hand. The sun setting behind him painted the world around us in red and golden fire and I thought back on all the things that brought us to this point. Looking down at my right arm, I could almost feel the phantom pain of the flames from Heldr’s sword as he used it to sever my original right arm, the fact that it was replaced by metal now only his fault. All at once the memory of ...
The Hovering Age
She’ll come down when she’s ready.My mother used to say when you reach the hovering age, it’s important to take your time. Don’t feel as though you need to keep yourself on the ground if your body wants to do something else.I hit the hovering age at thirteen. The first time I slammed the door in my father’s face, I looked down, and I was three inches off the ground. Always felt useless to me. Not to be able to fly--just hover. So I stopped right away. I didn’t have any interest in being an impractical person. My first boyfriend told me it was a superpower. Some superpower. Outside a haunted ho...
Cosmic doppelgangers'.
The night is warm. Endless stars hang over my head like a thick curtain, almost close enough to touch. I slip a hand off the steering wheel to feel the curtails of wind wrap around my fingers. The sensation is so fragile and clean. The road empty, I speed up, the fragmented embers growing around my arm. And I suffer sad reluctance when the growing lines of city buildings come to view. On entering the city, a breakdown of rain falls onto my car, drumming on its shell. The city's fluorescent glare drowns out the natural skylight, creating pockets of shallow darkness on the pavement where unsettl...
The Arrival of the Grym
Aeron watched as the amber light of the blood moon crept above the forest canopy, illuminating his shaggy crop of brown hair. He stood on his tiptoes, peering out into the wooded shadows, waiting for the Grym to appear. Father Feran was busy in the other chamber, preparing for the arrival. “Get away from that window, boy. He’ll be here soon enough and you best be asleep when he arrives,” Feran shouted over the crashing of brass kettles and clay pots as he prepared the lamb stew.Aeron ignored him like he did every year. He waited, keeping his eyes fixed on the dark path leading to the manor. Pr...