A fog in my head, growing, expanding to touch the fog outside. Like I was immaterial, and if I stopped thinking about it, I could just...float away.
Out of Time
Author: The Drunk Scribe
Seattle-based writer.
D&D, doublestuf oreo's, hiking. Not necessarily in that order.
Passing the Bar-d
Hannah considered the notes in front of her, licking a finger and shuffling between them. On top was a shopping list for Gronk’s dinners this week, with a notation in arcane runes running up the side. She considered it with a heavy sigh. They wanted a show. She’d give them a show.
Gutter Punks
Rain hammered against the iron roofs, pooling, crowding the sewer grates. It dripped from the glowing signs, beading drops of yellow, blue and red. A t.v beneath four inches of scarred glass lit the alley in a kaleidoscope of garish color.
In The Dying Light
He walked, alone. The city opened to him.
Riot – A Life In Silence
An ambulance screamed past, its sirens splitting the air like jagged glass shards.
The Egghead and the Driver
Being the only two people who have heard the real-life scream of a Tyrannosaurus Rex is something that I'll never forget, as long as I live. Mainly because 'as long as I live' was currently measured in seconds. "He's coming!" My companion shrieked, hanging out the back of the Time Machine. Through the filmy [...]
The Head May Err
The stink of charred rosemary was acrid; it burnt my lungs.
The Devil Lies
Whatever it was, it wanted what was under those stairs. Mikey had to stop him; he thought about screaming, crying for help but that would just complicate things--and his father would hear about it. Whatever happened, he had to deal with it himself. There was no question of turning around, not anymore. He knew what the thing wanted. Blood, and power.
The Second Encounter
Alain whipped the barrel of the musket around. His hands were sweaty against the wooden stock now. His arms were beginning to get tired; he felt like he had been holding it for hours. “Let him go!”
The First Lesson of Alain Dubois
In the high forests of France, just before the hills crack open and shoulder into the clouds to become the snow-capped alps, there is a small town called Roussard-en-Lac. In the small town of Roussard-en-Lac, there is an olive grove, situated on a rocky shoulder of a hill overlooking the small farming village. In this [...]
Alexander James 