The sign appeared comically placed. “Come In, We’re Open”—positioned right at the end of the pier, where the rotting white boards ended and the seemingly endless ocean began. To the casual observer, it was nothing more than a poor joke; to the right eyes, the sign hung in front of a building rendered invisible by a powerful soul-spell. A safe-house for me and mine.
It started with a wall.
“This will be a great wall. A necessary wall. A wall of democracy to keep out Those We Don’t Like.”
The scream from the alley drew Xander’s attention. A smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. And here he thought it was going to be a quiet night in the big city.
Three days without sleep was the least of my worries. The three dead bodies on the floor? They were a worry. The three cops who bust into the apartment and found me ankle deep in said bodies? Considerably higher up my list of concerns.
An irregular drumbeat filled the air, a series of staccato thuds that set Anneka’s heart racing. She felt it in her chest, in her mind, caressing her skin, filling her from head to toe, making her body twitch as she swayed to the primal pulse.
They knew him as The Shadow and spoke his name in whispers for fear of reprisal. He’d robbed six nobles in the last month alone, and now The Shadow had his sights set on a seventh.
“Are we doing the right thing?” Fran’s voice quavered around the laboratory. “He’s been gone for so long. What if we can’t bring him back? What if something goes wrong? So much has changed since he was last awake—”
Ask a man to name a fearsome animal, and you’ll likely hear Great White Shark or Box Jellyfish, perhaps Funnel-web Spider or some variation of Bear…
Personal journal of Dr. T. Miller
The small convoy rolled up to the foot of Gunslinger Ridge as the stars winked their way across the darkening sky. A half-dozen cars and trucks were already parked haphazardly among the scrub.
Set against a backdrop of ominously grey sky, Neuschwanstein loomed over the the lonely forest. It presided, dominated, menaced and threatened. The synonyms tumbled through Clara’s mind as she stood staring agape at the eerie, fairytalesque castle—and if fairytalesque wasn’t a word before, it damn well was now!
Its claws rake at the windows of my soul, sharp talons searching, exploring, hunting for the tiniest crack to exploit. Formless It drifts, alert for one moment of weakness, poised—perpetually—to strike.