Title Withheld

I shiver ceaselessly. When did the heat dissipate? What drove it from the mountain and forbade its return? There, the air itself was enough to blister the skin. I remember the waves of heat which warned against my approach with every step. Warnings I pushed aside with every fiber of fortitude I possessed. Until my departure home. The flames licked at the back of my neck, and my lungs rejoiced at the ease with which they filled with cool, unrestrictive air. But now, in this nowhere between origin and destination.

The Oarsman

Hungry waves lapped against the creaking hull. A soft wind carried a heat and odor that denied Wim the relief he hoped it would bring. Hand to head, he struggled to seat himself upright, his temples beating in time with the methodical slap of an oar behind him. First to the left, then the right. Each row like the beat of a drum, emphasizing a rippling moment as it stretched across the stream of time. Ever forward.

The Butler Did It!

The butler did it. If you care only for the conclusion to this mystery–the content of tomorrow’s headlines–you have your answer. Please leave me as quickly as you came. But I know better than to hope for such abatement of my pain. What good is a headline without details to fill your columns? Your papers need sensational facts, clues of the case laid out in an easy-to-digest timeline filled with wild but always accurate speculations. I care not for your papers or the idle gossip they promote and spread farther and quicker than any known contagion.

The Proxy

“The eyes! Why do they glow?”

Tia forced herself to exhale. She pressed her damp palms against each leg and made her first mental note. The dark room before her didn’t glow with luminescent red spikes; It wasn’t an Ustron. That was good. Very good. Less chance she’d be eaten before her father downstairs could hear her scream. But there were many other dangerous spirits that could belong to that voice.