Snack Drake

Brindle stumbled out of the portal, his battle-axe ready in his hands. “H’rak K’thum!” he shouted out, lifting the weapon over his head as he roared the traditional Dwarven battle cry.

Ariven next emerged from the portal, his long Elven fingers still splayed out, glowing with energy as he maintained the breach. “Is it safe, dwarf?” he called out, his focus remaining on the portal.

“Yeah, looks that way,” Brindle grunted, lowering his axe as he looked in both directions down the corridor. “Strange smell, though. Alchemical. Where have you brought us, wizard?” Continue reading

Facing Death, Part III

Continued from Part II, here.

So, I’m dead. And that’s not the surprising part.

No, it’s more surprising that Death has shown up to claim my soul. Literally. I’m apparently not off to Heaven or Hell, but following him.

If I don’t seem too upset about this, well, it’s because I’m not. I had reasons for doing what I did in life, but they seem kind of flimsy, now. If I had to go up and face judgment in front of God and all his angels, I’m pretty sure I can guess the inevitable outcome.

So tailing around after a seven-foot skeleton in a black robe and carrying a scythe doesn’t seem quite as bad as facing eternal torture in the fires of Hell. Continue reading

Facing Death, Part II

Continued from Part I, here.

The tiny, single little speck of everything, everything that contrasted against the overwhelming blackness of oblivion, wavered for a moment. I waited for it to go out, or maybe just shift into the Hell where I was pretty certain that I’d end up, despite my last words.

It didn’t do so, however. I clung to it, not quite ready to disappear into nonexistence quite yet. It flickered, twitched – and then, incredibly, started to swell…

It kept on swelling, growing larger, until it challenged the sea of black nonexistence in which it floated. It grew larger until it dominated that emptiness, consumed it and occupied it with itself. I felt like I was trapped against a wall by a force, impossible to resist as it grew larger and larger, pushing me to flatness between the wall of nothing behind me and the bubble of everything in front of me… Continue reading

Facing Death, Part I

“An’ now, here’s the poor sumbitch himself, ready to face justice fer his crimes!”

I heard someone shout something, but the bag over my head muffled the words. I felt a palm impact sharply with my back, knocking me forward. My foot hit the wooden step in front of me, and I staggered, nearly pitching forward.

Thankfully, the hand behind me grabbed the back of my collar, kept me from toppling down. Good thing, too, since they’d bound my hands. No chance of escape, not this time. I was pretty much well and truly screwed. Wouldn’t be walking away from this one. Continue reading

One Shot Kill

*Author’s aside: Goddamn, that’s a cool picture.*

“Come on,” the man repeated implacably as he dragged me along. “We can’t stay here. It isn’t safe.”

I wanted to shout back at him, but focused instead on keeping my feet beneath me. I’d already stumbled and nearly fallen, and learned the hard way that my new captor didn’t slow down to let me recover. Continue reading

The Last Drops of Morning

Pitter patter. That’s the right sound, she thought, looking past her reflection in the glass of the sliding door. This is a pitter patter kind of rain.

She heard his steps from behind her. She didn’t turn around as she listened to the clink of mugs in the cupboard, the splash of coffee from the machine pouring into first one cup, then the other. The fridge hissed as he pulled out the creamer, added a splash to her cup. The ring of a spoon as it clattered against the inside of the mug.

“Still raining?” He handed the mug over to her; she wrapped her fingers around the ceramic to absorb some of its warmth. Continue reading

The Fog in the Park

It’s a feeling that I don’t think I can put into words. Maybe the word for this feeling hasn’t been invented yet.

Bending down to tie my laces, I have to fight back a yawn. The yawns always come when I drag myself out of bed. It’s not that I’m tired, that I don’t get enough sleep (although that’s definitely a perennial problem of mine). I think that my body knows that the rest of the world is asleep right now, and it wants to join the sea of other dreamers in slumber.

Sometimes, it’s almost overwhelmingly tempting. It would be so easy. I could just crawl back into bed, back into that warm spot under the covers, close my eyes and drift immediately back into my half-broken dreams. No one would ever know if I skipped a day.

Still, I resist. I go through a few stretches, feeling the tightness of spending hours lying in the same position. I shake out my arms, listen to the rustling of the fabric of my jogging shorts. I tie my laces, re-check them to make sure that they aren’t going to work loose once I’m outside. Continue reading

The Blob

Oh god. Oh my god, I’ve got cancer or something. I’m dying.

I don’t feel sick, but staring at this… this thing, in front of me, I’m pretty sure that I’ve got some sort of disease. Healthy people usually don’t vomit at all, unless they’ve been drinking or something. I haven’t been drinking, so I can’t use that as my excuse.

And even if I had been drinking before now, I wouldn’t vomit up this pink ball of…

Is it moving?

I think I’m going to be sick again. Continue reading

The Battlefield Bar

I stumbled in, mud dripping off my boots, my jacket… well, pretty much everywhere, including a few places that I would rather not share with anyone else. “Faugh!” I declared, spitting on the straw covering the floor around the entrance.

Behind me, Young Henry followed on my heels, although he forewent my exclamation. He’d stuck close, practically my shadow as a round of artillery fell only meters from our position.

“Relax,” I told him, glancing back over my shoulder. “We’re on neutral ground now, lad. Take it easy.” Continue reading

Please read, please try to remember!

Okay, I think I type here. I hope this works. Forgive me, this is my first time using this blog site, so I don’t really understand much of it. My graduate student left his account logged in, I guess. Sorry, Sam. Perhaps posting as you will throw them off my trail.

I’m not sure quite what to write here. I guess I could just write it, right? But that wouldn’t make any sense, and they’d probably just delete it. I could maybe use some sort of code, but they’re clever, oh, they’re devilishly clever. Let me think…

Forgive me if I ramble a bit. I’ve been awake for… about thirty hours, now. I think that the caffeine is starting to wear off. I’d better drink another one of these Red Bulls. My graduate student swears by them, but they’re just making my head spin. And I’m still feeling tired, which is bad. Tiredness is the enemy. I need to stay awake. I just need to share this story.  Maybe some of you will even remember it… Continue reading