Engineer by day. Writer of mages, dragons, werewolves, vampires, and all things magical by night.
The mirror showed a reflection that wasn't my own. It showed a woman. And this woman was staring at me. Not a glance. Not an appraising look. Not even in a “checking me out” kind of way, no. She was full on staring, like her eyes could see right through me to my very soul.
If hospitals could remember
If walls could talk, would they want to? I’ve been here since this building was built, back in 1844. I haven’t been moved, I haven’t been modified. I’ve been painted a few times, a couple of holes drilled but I am still standing. I’ve made some new friends along the way, but lost some too. The layout of this hospital changed frequently at the beginning. They were finding their feet, I guess, finding the most efficient way to work. Walls have gone up, walls have come down. We used to share stories with each other all the time. We got excited when a new wall would come, for they would bring stories from another part of the hospital.
The moon peeked over the top of the mountains, and lit the valley in which the dragons slept. With it, a soft breeze swept down the valley making the long grass sway and filling the valley with the psithurism of the trees. A truly peaceful night, but a night of utmost importance.
The Silent Observer
Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. Tristan was unfortunate enough to have seen men and women die in space. Their mouths momentarily stretch open as the air is rapidly wrenched from their lungs. Whilst it was physically impossible for them to make noise, Tristan could see their scream in their eyes. It was a blessing, then, when they inevitably passed out from lack of oxygen. Typically, people passed out after around ten seconds. And each time someone had suited up to go and rescue them, it was too late. Their brain had been starved of oxygen, and they died.
Fall of Mages
High in the mountains, far above the battlefield, Ardgal sighed. The air used to be thick with magical potential, it warmed him, cushioned him, comforted him. Now, without the other mages, the air felt thin, as if he ventured too high up the mountain on which he resided. It felt cold, empty, and it was hard to breathe.
Burdens of the Dead
A whisper broke the silence. Shane sighed. His heart dropped, and dread flooded him. This is how it always starts. A whisper. They knew what he was, and that he could hear them. Once communication was established, they could push through. A whisper became a stage whisper, became a small voice, until it was like they were standing right next to him. Which, of course, they were.
As he pushed the doors to the barn open, they protested loudly. Clearly comfortable the way they were, they did not appreciate the fact that his equipment lay beyond them and that he, to afford this very barn, needed access to them. How very rude of him.