I am a writer, blogger and beer cellar consultant. My favourite genres to write and read are varied. My WIPs include large world builds in horror, fantasy fiction and supernatural. My writing can be viewed here. https://fictionisfood.com
I am a writer, blogger and beer cellar consultant. My favourite genres to write and read are varied. My WIPs include large world builds in horror, fantasy fiction and supernatural. My writing can be viewed here. https://fictionisfood.com
Wrath of the Gods,
Pray for me
Hear my soul bleed,
Lost in the maelstrom.
When the rain has gone,
Wash away the tears
Of tomorrows ghosts.
There will my heart stay
There is darkness here
Blinded by the light
Soaked in your breath
I wait here.
For you.
Can you see me?
Waiting for the rain to come
Tears turned to ice.
Waiting for the Gods
To take me.
Only dreams survive,
In Paradise....
Between the spaces
That hide the wall
Appear the faces
That leave at dawn.
Love of my life
God grant thy passing
Leave here, wake me up
Matter.
Come in from the cold
Lay not in dreams
Echoes of the past
Where darkness hides in silent memory.
Condensation on the windows.
Lost in the winter
To stay here
In Paradise.
I need to be alone at night.
Silent and smothered
Embrace me, wake me up
Matter....
An excerpt from an unpublished book called “Black Marsh.”
”If you want cards then so be it,” said Derrick, “Tina, this is your moment I think.”
The witch, as the brothers thought of her since seeing the inked pentagram stood up. She held five envelopes, each bearing the name of those seated around the table. One for each except Derrick and herself.
It was Allan that found that curious. “Fiv...
Rose spotted some napkins on the floor. Comfort zone depletion shields down and Klingons on the starboard bow.
She thought about that for a moment. Seem to think in songs and movies. Is that abnormal too? She inhaled deeply and tried to settle the nerves jangling in her stomach. “I need help.” There, three words and it's out. Ejected the warp core twice in one day.
There was a momentary sil...
Cresswell sat long into the night. His candles were little more than wicks now. Barely alive and casting more shadow than light. Scrolls littered an oak table with centuries of patina darkening the wood.
His chamber, like that of The Amanuensis, was devoid of spies. No secret tunnels or listening posts dwelt behind the walls. His scrying glass remained covered lest it betrayed him.
The crow ha...
He started going off the rails when gramps passed away. Nothing sinister or untoward. He was just old. That didn't make it hurt less, because of all the people in his family that gave him any time to talk about stuff, gramps was the only one that chewed the fat. Ade thought that was a war thing. When you saw that up front it was bound to change you. A mate blown to pieces could alter life pe...
That his Guild was secretive, he knew to be essential. It offered simplicity. No extended questioning about movements and activity. No official reporting structure other than the Key Masters. It worked because they were selected through extensive training and experience independent of influence by other Guild Masters. That they often came from the same three Guilds was accepted as no more than a c...
“Deja vu is an underrated tool of the subconscious. It is, if you like, a psychic alarum suggesting reality has fluxed.” On Chronomancy, Jeremiah Delalande.
“Tea thaumaturge?”
“Your usual herbal concoction?” replied the Amanuensis.
Jeremiah Delalande grinned. “Of course, what else is there that could kick a mule in the dark?”
The magician nodded and cast a gaze back to the tome resting...
The rest of the day was spent deep inside her head. Everything seemed a long way away off; unreachable. Going through the motions with a fake smile so well practiced everyone thought it was real. The posters on Whitaker's wall were so true. You really could be standing next to a depressed person and never know. At work she amused herself on this one.
Sandwiches to the elderly chap on table five...
“This phone,” began the stranger behind the counter in Lina’s favourite internet cafe, “has magical properties.”
“Such as?”
“If you don’t like someone just message them.”
“And that’s it? Go on a text rant and that’s magic?”
The man smiled, “It depends on what you are wishing at the time.”
Lina sat down nursing her coffee. Who did she dislike most? A sort of test to prove the man was talking r...