Short Stories

the dusk guard

The duskhaze.

That was what they called it. The fog that rolled in from the hills some nights and sent everyone to sleep. When the sun rose, so too did the citizens of Glothe. Under the shroud of retreating mists, they picked themselves up off the street or wherever they landed and carried on with life as though it had never been so rudely interrupted. But there were some who never woke.

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Blog

2019: a year in review

Here we are again, end of another year (or rather, the beginning of a new one because as usual, I’m slow at getting this shit written.)

Actually, it’s the end of the decade, and what an eventual period of time the 2010s turned out to be. In summary: I graduated university, moved to Japan, moved home from Japan, got married, had a baby and turned thirty—all in that order and thankfully not at once.

But we’re here to talk about 2019 and everything that has transpired in what has been a pretty momentous year for me and not just because I turned the big three-oh.

So, let’s break it down.

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Short Stories

at the stroke of midnight

It smelt like every other library, though it was certainly different after dark. The perfume from the books was stronger at night, sweeter and more pungent, made all the more noticeable by the lingering whiff of coffee.

Mila stumbled behind the others, torch in hand. Andrik led their little group through the shelves, all the while whispering in Tao’s ear. Tao let out a muffled laugh and Mila scoffed; her brother wasn’t that funny.

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Short Stories

the investigator

The smell of death surprised him every time—sweet and pungent in its foulness. Rence stood over the body of Lord Harrison, regarding the pattern of his splattered blood across the slate tiles of the monastery. Beside the body was a pistol—a relatively new model by the looks of it. Pinched between his gloved thumb and forefinger, Rence lifted it from the pooled blood, the barrel cold and greasy. It was a decorative thing: a three barrelled flintlock with brass mechanism and an ornately carved ivory grip. A curious smile crept across his lips.

This was a rich man’s weapon.         

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