A Final Meeting in the Churchyard
The coolness of night chilled the early morning fog as it drifted along the worn headstones, an air of gloom lifting sluggishly with the sun. The autumn air was crisp, and it tousled the trees that grew in the churchyard. Nicholus drew in a breath as he carefully removed his saber from its sheath. He had cornered her, far from home and after so many years of running, and the thought of the final battle that lay ahead somewhat overwhelmed him. His hand clenched the saber's hilt. Too many soldiers, men and boys alike, had fallen to her power. It was time to end it.
What Evil my Child has Wrought
Chief of police, Ronald Missions, stepped from the passenger seat of the sleek, black cop car, hand reflexively resting on the butt of his department-issued pistol. He surveyed the scene for a moment, taking in a few deep breaths. He was a bit more out of shape than he’d like to admit.
The sentience that kills
The windows shook soundly. Dr. Hardy looked up from his tablet, eyes squinted, to the large wall-front window of his office. There had been no reports of inclement weather for the day. Only small puffs of harmless clouds crossed the bright blue sky. He stood up and, crossing the small office in three long strides, stuck his head out into the hallway. A young red headed intern was stooped, picking up scattered papers and files.