The Static Between
## The Static Between The salt spray tasted like regret on Old Man Hemlock’s lips. He adjusted the focusing lens of the fresnel, the beam slicing through the November gloom like a hot knife. Three decades at North Sentinel Rock…
Hemlock
Read MoreThe Static Between
The Cartographer’s Echo
## The Cartographer’s Echo Dust motes danced in the violet shafts slicing through Old Man Tiber’s workshop. The light, fractured seven ways over Aestinwy’s sun prisms, tasted like ozone and regret. I ran a thumb across the vellum stretched taut…
Dough & Data
## Dough & Data The chipped Formica countertop stuck to Detective Leo Reynolds’s elbow. Rain lashed against the window of Mabel’s Diner, mirroring the storm inside him. Website ranking. That was his current hell. Not catching actual criminals, but boosting…
The Static Bloom
## The Static Bloom Dust motes danced in the single shaft of weak sunlight slicing through the grimy window. Wren traced patterns on the chipped Formica countertop, not really *seeing* them, more feeling the grit under her fingertip. Sixteen years…
The Husk Cities
## The Husk Cities The air tasted like wet iron and blooming rot. Old Man Tiber, they called him, though he couldn’t be more than sixty, the marsh leeched years. He adjusted the oilskin cowl tighter around his face as…
The Silent Giant
The chipped basalt warmed beneath Falon’s palm. It wasn’t the stone itself, though ancient and weighty, but the feel of *him* woven into it—Elio. Centuries of silence clung to the giant’s legacy, a vow stretched taut until someone saw…what, exactly?…