I don’t remember much about my dad, but what I do remember was that, no matter what, he always had some sort of work to do. He’d be on the phone or locked in his office or rushing out the door, papers under his arm and a kiss on the cheek for mum.
Whisper my name
The sterile white walls, the pale green curtains ringing the bed, the faint smell of bleach and soap and alcohol hand sanitizer that clung to his clothes for days and lingered even longer in his mind - he hoped Sam’s dreams were full of better things.
Destiny divined
Hundreds of thousands of feet had wound their way to the Augur’s house over the centuries, deep in the marshes, from peasants to kings to thieves to priests. Everyone, when they turned twelve, went to see the undying Augur, and came back bearing their fate.
This house
This house holds memories, twined in the dusty sunbeams floating through sparkling windows and in the creak of its settling bones. Where to start, in this time-bound building filled with the recollections of those who have walked its halls?
Parroted
He was uncertain what lay at the end, but as the jungle swallowed him and the days became hazy and indistinguishable from the nights he found he didn’t much care. He would find the end, or it would find him. The journey was what was important. The summons.
A field of sunflowers
Her footsteps were the only noise in the gilded corridor, the tiny sounds of her heels echoed and amplified until it became the tread of a fateful army thundering in her ears. As the grand doors swung open, she swallowed the acrid bile that rose in her throat and flashed a smile at the assembled guests.
The right to bare arms
The receptionist wears a sunny smile whatever the weather, although sometimes she must want to smack some of the people that walk in complaining. There’s a fish tank. Even the fish look bored, as if they’ve seen everything before.
π-geons
Some pieces of paper, a pen and a tattered copy of John Brunner’s ‘Stand on Zanzibar’ to sell the idea that he was here for pleasure. An idle watcher, as the world passed him by. Perhaps he fancied himself well-read, a gentleman.
Wyldewood
Overhead, the trees began to grow tangled and thicker, the dim patches of darkening sky strangled by encroaching greenery. The smell of soil and rotted leaves hung thick in the humid summer air.
Storm-caller
Something else moved within the clouds, hidden from view.
Every now and then, lightning would earth itself on one of the towering skeletons that jutted great metal ribs from the dry earth.
Eamonn watched the skies intently, glasses reflecting the brilliance of the lightning.