NEW SEASON The Art of Drowning – 3.1 – By Jac Forsyth

There was a time. So begins the monologue of men. Still I say the words and I raise the noun, its shape catching on lie just as easily. But sand and sea know nothing of the narratives of fiction. [...]

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It’s not like we stood in line for this

3 seconds to daylight. The air inside the office was always the same. Bastian pulled the cuff of his glove tight and turned away from the door, slipping low under the first of the windows. The humiliated drone would be searching for him, calculating which side street, which building, how fast, how far he could have gone. The old library sliced a piece of history through heat recognition easy enough, but any visual movement, any contrast, and he was screwed. [...]

Just depends what sort of mood I’m in

Bastian Celeste detested heroes. All that perverted selfishness and hidden agenda, where was the honesty in that? Sure, moral corruptions followed him around like a pack of rabid dogs, but lying had never been one of them. He picked up a coffee at the station and ducked past the security checks, stone-skimming his phone ID … Continue reading Just depends what sort of mood I’m in

I’ll slip into something more comfortable…

The first thing that impressed people about Bastian Celeste was that he could speak two dozen languages. What they didn't notice in all their admiring was that language was about control, and Bastian had an intent so complicated even he was unsure of how far down he’d crawled. He flicked a glance at the pinnacle … Continue reading I’ll slip into something more comfortable…

The Art of Drowning – Season 2 finale – By Phil Huston

Kylie let her fingertips drift across the creased sepia photograph of a young sailor with a trimmed beard, his hat in his hand, a baby cradled in his arm. A pretty girl in plain, light dress stood next to him, her arm in his. ‘Dory, Juliet et Michael – St. V e C 1917’ in faded ink across the bottom. The sailor was the grandfather of a man she thought held secrets to a life she’d been denied. A man, she’d discovered, who never knew she existed. [...]