Tangled

Rains come rattling after the snakes, and she shines all the more for the venom they left behind. Woke up tied to the railings of a disused town. All the glass broken and just the signs, with only one good screw left in them. She'd check out. But the music just won't let her go. … Continue reading Tangled

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I’ll just 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 just 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. [...]

The Art of Drowning – 2.9 – By Phil Huston

“Long stemmed wine glasses and tablecloths are a proposition, Caswell.” Elise gave the room and its elegance a practiced eye. “Or an apology. Suspect, regardless, for a man who just asked me how my French was before he asked me about wine. I spend two evenings a week with bored, over-educated or homesick women reading French Literature and speaking French. Things I’m sure you knew before you asked.” [...]

The Art of Drowning – 2.8 – By Ash N Finn

Today a slow dance of clustering clouds choreographs a timed waltz of darkening shadows on land and sea below. Soon the monochrome sky will ignite in timeworn dynastic conflict. Look up, gaze into the swaying clouds long enough and you will see a tenebrous prophecy in the shaping, dissolving, and reshaping of furious grey eyes. [...]

Missing the Maelstrom

You know I’m dying, right? And you. Waiting patiently for the adverts to end. Eating the popcorn rituals of your indifference. To see what happens next. While I politely asked for help. Because I was already holding on by my fingertips. I only saw the storm once. A distant silver light. Unbridged. Untamed. Unwanted. Turned … Continue reading Missing the Maelstrom