A Dead Language_What Jake Found In The Basement_Maashtun_When a coffee hawker met Mr. Hakuna Matata
Catalog Guide:
A Dead Language
We were ambushed at the cemetery. Noel, shot blank through the shoulder, the thigh; too many shots to count. He hit the earth with the lifted brows of disbelief. Like a fool, I scooped him up by his underarms, dragging his heavy frame past crumbling tombstones; blood seeped from his body like oil. The man who attacked us, and his lanky friend, lay dead leaps away from us now, eyes like glass in the moonlight. The thin one managed to graze my side with a bullet, but I ignored the sharp sting pulsing below my flesh like a second heartbeat. With a grunt I pushed through an open mausoleum, pulling...
What Jake Found In The Basement
“I hear a sound in the basement,” said Claire to her husband Jake. “Go see what it is.”Jake turned on the basement light and went down the steep, old steps. He saw a small sort of reptile writhing on the floor. It had many legs and continuously changed its shape and colors. “It’s some kind of lizard.”“Lizard! I don’t think I want a lizard in the basement. What kind of lizard?”“Damned if I know; I’ve never seen anything like it.”“Come get my phone and take a picture of it.”Jake walked up the stairs and took the phone from Claire and went back down in the basement. He took several pictures of...
Maashtun
Whispers follow them through the streets. There they go, the voices say, coloured with fear and awe and intrigue. They ooh and they aah, at the silver horses, the gilt frame of the carriage, they marvel at what might lie hidden within, the thought of jewel bedecked walls and velvet floors.Among them are those more wary. They speak only in soft murmurs, they trade rumours and pass judgements. Heathens. Cambions. Witches.And one phrase rises above it all, louder than the muttered insults, more hushed than the awestruck wonder. There go the ones that know magic.***********************************...
When a coffee hawker met Mr. Hakuna Matata
"A cup for sixpence sir, please", "Try this new one, it has a pleasing aroma, please, anyone would like to try...". I was screaming, bellowing and begging, but as usual hardly a couplwww.onedoor.cce of people walking incessantly on the unbearably frozen streets of Wales, even gave a glance at me or my kiosk, with the help of which I was hawking and trying to sell my coffee in the deserted sidewalk, you must be wondering, who I was, anyway the moment in which I was vending coffee, at that time I was a destitute who was selling coffee on my wooden kiosk, which was the only property I owned, moreover my good n...