The place I died
This is the place I died. It was a place of polish and wood married to a foundation of metal. It was a death of ice and water. When I forget to forget I can feel the press of liquid slipping into my airways. I can feel my skin go numb in patches of needles, all but my lungs which hold the memory of being so achingly full but empty of anything that I need.
The magistrate stood off to one side as the woman was guided in. She was a thin thing; were she a little bit younger she would be called gangly. Though she was well groomed now the magistrate could see the signs that this was not the case until recently. Every few minutes the woman ran a hand through her hair with a look of awe on her face.
“Papa.” Mary called into the classroom with a smile. Her father Jack was one of the premiere teacher in the regions, one of only three that had a permanent dedicated space in the Umiko dome. He had always told her that this had been a dream he had since he had been a child. Jack had met her mother, Janette, when he was doing his mandatory shifts on the Topside as part of the Pirate faction of the Buccaneers. Though the two had never felt the need to have a romantic relationship they had fun and were fond of each other.
Echoing from the Past
Ours is the blood of travelers. These are the words my father whispered throughout my childhood. They layered over the hurt as RT left, first for school then to cross the sea, never looking back. They settled into my bones as one by one my siblings flew away into their lives. They burned in my soul when war drew me into my own flight.
Exiled to the Path
In the game Path of Exile, the player walks through a rich world of gods and monsters, wading through the remnants of at least 3 civilizations. The world centers on the continent of Wraeclast, a dark place of runaway magic. The magic, called Thaumaturgy, is a corrupting force that creates the creatures that the player must face to move through the world.
A good friend once said to me that there is one surefire way to tell that you have become an adult. You look back at the things you have done as a child and teen, and you cringe. These are the memories that your mind shies away from. The things that you would do anything to take back.
Can We Keep Her?
There was a flash of frantic, frenetic movement that drew the attention of the shadow. A woman of indeterminable age and classic beauty paced the length of the room. The brightly colored cloth of her skirt caught and reflected the light of the fire. The room was a cozy place, full of soft draped cloth hanging from irregular wooden walls. The fireplace threw odd shadows across the not quite circular room. In spite of the long shadows there was nothing sinister to be found. The woman’s husband, Theo, reclined on his chair, reading placidly.
A Promise Kept
If one took a second to look at the shaking hands, they would conclude that it was age that caused the trembling. These hands were shriveled remnants of strength long since passed. Skin that was wrinkled and scarred was loosely wrapped around bone and withered sinew.
Hell of a Day
The office was a square of beige walls and cream colored furniture. The desk was set a precise 90 degree angle to the door and held nothing that was not absolutely necessary for the owner to do its job. The being to whom the office belonged was, in its own way, just as forgettable as its workspace. It was a thin, weedy thing with no gender. Its skin was a matte grey, just smooth enough to avoid interesting looking wrinkles. Though young, it had been created for its job and was perfectly at home in Hell’s structure. The entire subset of punishment or judgement related afterlives took on the collective name of Hell after the Christian variations began to multiply exponentially.