Wake. Sleep. Doze. Sleep. Wake. The moments of true wakefulness came so far apart, and so briefly, that they seemed nonexistent. Even when he managed to pull himself from the depths of drowsiness that had enveloped him, he caught only glimpses of the world: His room, in the dark of night, with only the stars … Continue reading Visitor
Tag: Callaie
Leoth’s Last Night
Leoth had been building up this moment in his mind for weeks. He had idly considered this course of action several times over the last few years, but it was only in recent times that he had finally made up his mind. The notion that he might stay here forever had become unbearable. It was … Continue reading Leoth’s Last Night
Goodbye, Emarta
Emarta wrung her hands. She was nervous, and deservedly so, but Cyrène felt oddly calm. This still felt like her room, even if she knew it wasn’t anymore. She wondered if it ever had been, or if she should have felt like it was her mother’s space that she had just been permitted to live … Continue reading Goodbye, Emarta
Cyrène
The knock at the door startled Leoth. He jumped. It was not an inherently frightening sound, and he was not one to be easily frightened, but people rarely, if ever, came knocking at their door. People almost never came knocking bearing pleasant tidings. People didn’t come this late at night, either. Baruch lifted his head … Continue reading Cyrène
Arriette
The first clue came from the missing food. It was easy to miss, because their visitor didn’t eat much, or quickly. Perhaps, during the course of a day, a berry or two and a single nut might go missing. Perhaps the sugar lid might be put back slightly askew, with a pattern raked into it … Continue reading Arriette
Cold Metal
Like White Marble, this entry is more of an exploration of a character than a complete story. Fear, though powerful, is not an easily sustained emotion. It comes in bursts and waves, in shocks and spasms, and as a cold, icy buzz that cuts straight through to one’s core. As with all sensations, though, constant … Continue reading Cold Metal
White Marble
Cyrène bounced her foot impatiently. The motion sent ripples across the hem of her dress. Cyrène felt a distinct hatred for the garment and its enforced, blatant femininity. She leaned back in her chair and folded her arms across her chest in direct defiance of the way a proper lady would be expected to sit … Continue reading White Marble
Daydreams 