Georges-Henri Daigle
Bio
Trying to make sense of the worlds in my head, since the one outside often doesn't.
I mainly write fantasy, sci-fi and mystery, though I see no reason to limit myself.
Stories (15/0)
Growth is the Journey
My first memory is of strange, bulbous eyes inspecting me. The creature floated above the sand by moving its thin appendages and introduced itself as a fish. I was so small then, little more than a mound of pebbles, really, and no one paid me any mind. I observed the desolate plain of the seafloor endlessly, receiving the rare but welcome visitor from time to time.
By Georges-Henri Daigle28 days ago in Fiction
The Black Ibis Case - Chapter 7
The streets were silent as I slowly passed through them. I watched people come out of their buildings and walk mindlessly towards their work or to their cars, like they were on autopilot. I could see many others gripping their steering wheels tightly, too tightly in some cases, and smoking one puff after the next in rapid succession. These people were stressing themselves out about their day’s tasks before they had even begun, and for a moment I felt better about my situation. As strange as things may have gotten, at least I’m not stuck behind some desk crunching numbers repeatedly for the sake of some corporate overlord who doesn’t even acknowledge my existence as anything but an asset to him, or a drain on resources to be removed if I’m not profitable enough.
By Georges-Henri Daigle2 months ago in Fiction
Recipient Unknown
Machine gun fire and explosions filled my ears. All around me my comrades were dying to the enemy forces faster than we could push them back. I pulled out a grenade from my belt and hurled it at the opposing trench. Screams and moans of protest answered the shockwave, but my triumph was brief. A stray bullet found me and sent me crashing to the ground.
By Georges-Henri Daigle3 months ago in Fiction
Charlemagne's Game
A cold current wakes me. I slowly open one eye to see who disturbed the water. Just an angel fish looking for food. I open the other and adjust myself to match the coral I’m leaning on. I haven’t seen any sharks since I was put in this tank, but I know better than not to expect one. That’s what I learned when I was little and lived on the reef.
By Georges-Henri Daigle3 months ago in Fiction
The Black Ibis Case - Chapter 6
McMillan Exports’ old warehouse didn’t look any more inviting in daylight than it had at night. In fact, daylight made it more ominous than before, the worn concrete, rusted steel and broken windows made this eye sore stand out from the rest of the scenery. Yet, the building’s dilapidated state was only the second thing I noticed as I drew closer. There was a feeling of dread in the air, one I had felt on my first visit and felt even more now. I couldn’t have said where it came from, or what caused it, yet it lingered in the air as surely as the cold wind had announced a fresh layer of snow since this morning.
By Georges-Henri Daigle4 months ago in Fiction
The Black Ibis Case - Chapter 5
The poorly lit streets felt comforting and familiar. The dimness illuminated the streets enough to help ease my mind from what I had witnessed, but the events of this night just kept streaming through my mind like a movie reel looping repeatedly, recalling something so vivid and real yet, fuzzy, like a dream.
By Georges-Henri Daigle4 months ago in Fiction
The Black Ibis Case - Chapter 4
The drive to Reservoir road was quiet and soothing. The air had a stillness to it that almost made me forget about the growing pains in my face and torso from the fight a half hour ago. I could see in the rear-view mirror that I had a busted lip and a cut on my cheekbone, and my side felt like it was going to have bruises for a few days. Luckily though, nothing was broken. I was just going to tough it out and tell anyone that gave me a side eye that it was a failed mugging.
By Georges-Henri Daigle5 months ago in Fiction
The Black Ibis Cases - Chapter 3
Old. The air was heavy with the scent of old books as soon as I went through the door. The smell of old books was one of the prevalent odors I could distinguish as part of the mixture entering my nostrils, but there was more. Old wood, varnish and dust seemed to dominate over everything else in the archeology building apart from the stories of the objects from which the scents emanated.
By Georges-Henri Daigle5 months ago in Fiction
The Black Ibis Case
I stared at the piece of paper for a long time, trying to understand its meaning. I decided to fold it up and place it in a plastic bag to examine it later. I checked the remaining offices but found them as empty as all the other ones I had seen before.
By Georges-Henri Daigle5 months ago in Fiction
