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Showing posts from January, 2015
        The glow of the watches on the small cart suddenly dimmed.  Declan and Balric could barely make each other out while a soft, warm candle light illuminated the bed of red velvet where the pocket watch that Balric now held had previously lain.  “It looks like a small stage,” Balric thought to himself. Suddenly, three smoky and frail looking shadow figures appeared on the red velvet stage.  In the center, there was a female looking shade defined only by the curves of her form.  Flanking her on either side were two male figures, lacking any curves whatsoever.  They looked like wooden marionettes that great puppeteers would control with strings to delight children.  Yet these were different; dark shapes without features, faceless and voiceless, standing in slouched postures as they waited for the performance to begin.  The stage was set. “Imagine my lord, for a moment, that you are the Duke of York,” the ghost began.  His voi…
JOURNEY TO MIRANGA ISLAND Part III: The Bazaar of the Dead
        The docks of Saltana stood in a thick and viscous-like fog that reminded Declan and Balric of a brook or stream back in the world of the living.  The fog was thick enough, but moved slowly all around them, so much so that they couldn’t see their feet below it. Beyond the dock the ocean of fog rose higher, clouding everything in their sight save one flickering light.  In the enveloping gloom, it seemed faint and far away. “That must be the light of the bazaar,” Declan said assuredly. “Must it?”  Balric asked with trepidation. “Come Balric.  We have twenty four hours to find the map and return to this dock.  There’s no time to lose,” Declan said as he began walking forward.  His steps echoed loudly on the dock, as though the wood it was made of was hollow. Balric slowly began following his master.  He heard the excitement in Declan’s voice and, not for the last time, wondered at how the man he served could be so stalwart in the…