The Chalice and the SwordsAnd so it came to pass that the Great Dragon came down from the mountains and claimed for his own the golden chalice that had belonged to the late Queen Kasala, and so was most precious to King Rabou. This, he could not stand, for as well as causing him grievous personal pain, it was an affront to the honour of the very nation itself.More Like This
“Father,” said the young prince. “Let me go and see the dragon!”
But the king wouldn’t hear it. Without hesitation, he sent out the greatest of his three knights, wielding the mighty sword Slambring.
“Great Dragon!” Shouted the knight, waiting on horseback before the dark cave. “Return the chalice at once, or face my blade!”
The dragon did not reply. It did not even turn around. It simply lashed out with its tail and knocked the great knight from his horse, sending him back to the castle with bruised ribs and an even more bruised ego.
“Father!” said the prince. “Let me go! I will succ
The Stakeout - RevampedHe was hungry. Starving, really. He hadn't eaten in an entire week. It'd taken him two days of investigation to discover the one behind the disappearances, three days of straight travel to get to the dingy studio with its blacked-out windows, and he'd been sitting in the small office, waiting, for two days; but Bean never ate til a job was finished.More Like This
Call it motivation.
The scrape of his permanent scruff scratched against the back of the velvet seat he reclined against was plenty comfortable as his head lolled, but he had no need to sleep. Not when twenty-seven were gone, according the Lenticular over his left eye – a gift from The Techies in recognition for his services to The Living. It kept him informed of various cases – missing persons, usually, and off Bean would go. He'd always had a strong moral code – he thought. Not sure anymore, really.
Fingering the weapon in the pocket of his frayed coat, he wished the punk he'd tracked to this studio would arrive. He was
The ChalkboardWe had a chalkboard on the back wall of our kitchen. It was green with a wood trim and big like a front door. It did more harm than good I think.More Like This
I was nine and my big sister seventeen. Every morning we ate breakfast together across from each other and it was usually the only time I saw her.
Every morning mom wrote a new word from the dictionary on it. Winsome. Subliminal. Inept. The word in red chalk and the definition in cursive white. Every morning a new word was there, under the Maxim — a short, pithy statement expressing a general truth or rule of conduct — mom made up and taped onto the top of the board.
The Early Learner Bird Gets The Word.
Between bites we said the word and the definition, over and over. Dad liked to say we sounded like broken record players. Mom said we were learning by Rote — mechanical or habitual repetition of something to be learned. After I said it ten times I could ask to be excused from the table.
It’ll let you express yourself b
Water Tower by SunsetI’m going to the water tower up on Raleigh’s Ledges. I can see it from here, and the sun is starting to turn pink and orange, but I feel like I could make it before it gets too dark. You can see the whole city from up there- I can tell from where I’m standing, corner of 4th and Abel. I haven’t ever been up to the water tower, but I always see it. Not something you much think about, I guess, when you’re living below it. It holds water, I guess. I never saw the point in building them so high, but now it stands out like a beacon to me. I will follow it. Maybe someone else will think to do the same. You can see the whole city from there.More Like This
The first person I came across was Jacob. I couldn’t see his face or anything under all of that rock and plaster, but I knew it was him, because somehow- somehow- his mandolin was perfectly intact. Jacob would have grabbed his mandolin when he fled his house in the same way a mother would have grabbed her child.
Saw a fe