leothefox

[DEVIATION] When the sun came, creeping and pink, up over the back of the bay, it knocked gently on the window to my office, only to find four big rough men knocking hard on my head. It was a familiar tune they played, telling me to “Stay out! Stay out if ya know what’s good for ya!” but all I could think about was what it would cost me to get the locks fixed. Still, I told them I’d stay out. It was the end of a case, a sloppy one at that, involving an exiled Greek millionaire and some nasty photos he’d kept lording over people. I’d decided I’d dabble in photography, and it wound up costing me. Once the old girl who manned the building switchboard came in I’d place a call to the client telling them it might be cheaper to play the blackmail. I got a bag of ice on my face, some tape on the doorknob, and a full glass of scotch when the lady walked in. She was a vision, sure, made for the silent screen, that’d be because she didn’t talk. That’s probably why she wasn’t alone. The one

[DEVIATION] CHAPTER LXI. Trost Tells His Story Having again encountered Tawang and his love in a roadhouse in the desert, Trost pledges to help them both. The woman is puzzled by his generosity, and asks him to explain himself, which he vows to do, once she has seen to the man Tawang's well-being, as he is wounded. “You will tell it?” she asked him. “I am here for hours yet. Check on Tawang.” She did as he suggested. He was slightly slumped in the seat, but he breathed. When she moved him, Trost could see better that there were bandages around his middle and that these were brown with dried blood. She made him drink something more and blotted his mouth before returning. “You… you may call me Katherine,” she said, “I am sorry I did not tell you before.” “Quite alright, Katherine. Thank you.” “You… you know what Tawang and I are… or rather, what we have been.” “Like so many others, you had little choice about what was before.” She only nodded in silence. For moments, the only sound

[DEVIATION] XXIII. Hands without a Mind The sailor went again towards the two women. He looked at Rebecca, as if seeing her for the first time, and ran a hand through her dark hair, leaving particles of white dust visible upon it. He then turned from her and went back towards Sabra. Kenneth’s body streamed blood and he winched from a dozen hurts, but he dragged himself back to his feet, determined to come again and stop the madness that played out before him. He walked, and as he did he knocked aside some chips of plaster. Out from it the gun slid into view. He took it up and blew on the barrel to clear it, then he lifted it to aim. “You will stop, sir,” Kenneth managed to say. “No more of this.” “Be patient, one moment.” “You will stop now.” The sailor did not, stop. Something else happened, however, too sudden and terrible for the young man ever to have expected. It was almost as though the still air were filled with a fitful music, a fearful trilling of the silence that ran

[DEVIATION] XXXVI. The Whole Truth Discovered The small city of Burlington was just yawning and stretching when Theodore Bundy hurried back down the road, and into the main streets of the town. All about were people moved at the pace of cold molasses, and even the livestock seemed to reconsider their careers. The men that were about on the morning streets might as well have been statues compared to the young frontiersman. For he walked with definite purpose. From the look on his face, any could see that he was about a mission and that nothing would stand in his way. The look was the sort that could give pause to another, and it was firmly stretched across his head. Until he came to the steps of the courthouse. He stopped here and looked up at the columns and windows, which reflected an unfeeling winter sky. His pace had faltered and he had to collect himself again. He recalled the words of his mother, telling him to leave well enough alone. That was all he needed to carry on. He

[DEVIATION] Chapter 52: Devils in Sheep's Clothing The deacon of the church of the keeper of the stone, Pubbard, came up to the dead body of San Dee where she lay in the ballroom. He and his assistants had shouldered their way past Sangter and the other mourners, but to what purpose? Pubbard looked down at the dead form, but then up again. He noted the statue of Jawnee and the Lorinzian altar and made an expression of distaste. To his party he turned and ordered: “Get that out of the room, please.” The underlings began to go to work and the holy man knelt down, just as Bryx had hours before. What words were spoken? What rites performed? Was the deacon’s action such as would help to lift a soul into heaven? Once alone, he said nothing and made no sign of she who lay there. Not that San Dee much deserved this consideration, but one still expected a man of the cloth to fulfill his office. Instead, Pubbard reached down and pulled back the eyelid of the corpse. He then removed the glass

I. Brett Piper Runs Afoul of a Stone It is held by honored logic that things which occur leave traces of themselves, and this is nowhere better evidenced than on the spread of a recent snowfall. The fresh blanket of powder is broken by patterns of circles, lines, squiggles, and confusing zigzags. The donkey, the rat, and perhaps the odd escaped kangaroo may leave his calling card. This may have never bothered you, for on a chill morning you likely go about your own business with a briskness, but to those who look to the pall of white for perfection, each feature will stand out very sharply. If a man knows what he is looking for, he can make sense of squiggles and blemishes. One can see a track and call out that it is that of man, of rabbit, of horse, of mouse, of fowl. Here, however, chicken was not numbered among them, for every chicken that went past, on this frigid morning, had no need to walk at all, for each was carried gingerly in the arms of the connoisseur, or crudely

THE STREET OF THE SLEEPWALKERS “I am not dreaming, For all can see, I trust in the feeling, There's none that won't see, The change is upon us, It is what will be.” I. Arrival By Train “Where are you headed, Roberta?” the man on the train asked the young lady as they drew into the station. “You know me?” the dark haired woman asked, a perplexed look blooming on her face. “You don’t remember me? I’m Fred Warwick, we used to go to camp together,” smiled the young man, taking off his hat to reveal a head of light blonde hair. “Surely you didn’t forget?” “Oh, Fred!” she said, leaning forward, “It’s been ages! But why didn’t you say something before now? The train is stopping.” “I’m ashamed to admit I thought it was you, but I wasn’t sure until a moment ago when I heard you laugh. A lot of people talk alike, but I don’t think anybody laughs quite like you.” “Thank you, I think.” She adjusted her bonnet as they disembarked together, out onto the platform surrounded by tall conifers.

“Dear Readers, Do you want for money? For respect? For confidence? Detective Stinger Tusk reminds you here and now that there is one answer to all three of these problems. In a word: Education! The detective personally endorses the fine center of learning, The Staten Island University of Modern Thought, which has taken upon itself to humbly offer its highly useful classes in correspondence form. Send 15 cents to this publishing house and obtain a whole catalog of courses which are guaranteed to result in lucrative careers. Application of Philosophic Thought, Trial Law, Metallurgy, and Modern Accounting, are just a few of the fine fields of study in which you can obtain a diploma without ever having to leave your home. Write today. -The Editors” Chapter 20: Too Many Chances “What do you mean by this?” demanded the man in the crystal vision in which I was caught. “We are Po and Broze, Beta Rocket Men!” The religious leader before us shook his head: “I fear to

part one The primitive peoples of the jungle city of Zsogo had never really dreamed of flight, which may be why they wanted the flying machine so badly. They had, however, obtained a large supply of the very latest space cars, taken forcibly from a passing caravan of traders. The stone-paved streets had been built for wheeled carts, so they could handle the modern wheels, after a fashion. The two outlanders, driving at insane speeds in the car that wound through the streets, could not help but feel that the way might have been better paved. The royal guards that drove up behind may have felt the same way, but they could not have said so out loud. Visitors from other lands rarely came away with a positive impression of Zsogo, if they came away at all. The plateau city, hugged by a bend in the river, preyed on travelers, and sought ever to find better ways to make war on its neighbors. The only small mercies being that the lethal jungle kept it apart from the outside world, and

RYKAH AGAINST THE SUPERNATURAL! I struggled, trying to pit my living muscle against the spirits that moved this long buried armor. One face near mine had the mail half ripped from it, and beneath I was no skull, no bones, but a cold body hewn of what might have been marble. The Mirror's Children “There is no den in the wide world to hide a rogue. Commit a crime and the earth is made of glass.” -Emerson In the torchlight I saw them. A moment before there had been no one, but now, atop the the black stone slab in the center of the cavern, there stood six eerie figures. The shapes of their bodies seemed somehow twisted, as if they had been assembled from a different plan, yet I could discern little about their features as they were wrapped in a finely made dark metal mail. Even their faces were covered in this mail, and their skulls were wreathed in crowns that resembled shards of broken glass. “What are they, Rykah?” Morpho whispered beside me. “Can we

10. Wait, what was in the box? “ I recall smoking my pipe, considering the grey dawn, stretching my legs and dreading another day of confinement aboard that rickety carriage, bound to Milton-Keynes. The lads had piled high the baggage and we waited for Thorne to give the order to resume our journey. We were in a terrible time of year where the rains of spring fell steadily but the bitter cold of winter had not yet abated. Eventually we resumed our long overland journey, and so too did Thorne resume his tale. ‘As you may recall, I had just put in for an extended leave from the communications office, which was not seen as anything so strange as Christmas time was upon us. The letters and messages would be at the year’s end lull, and I had a sister in Blackpool who insisted that the air there was good for your health despite the season. It all made for a convenient excuse and a fortuitous timing. And, before I move on, Doctor Bunson had expressed some concern over the security

Chapter 29 Choice at Liberty Island Akiva discovers that the palace is invaded, Tingam flees into the night with Fostep as his hostage. Akiva races to the mesa of the blue men where he first arrived, fighting his way to the portal that Tingam and Fostep have just passed through. Vengeful Tingam plans to begin an invasion of the Earth. A flash like lightning flooded the cave and then subsided. For a moment only the light of the torches lit the cavern. Boots and fists crashed into Akiva's body, the fury of their rhythm increasing with the desperate rage of that race that the man from Earth had caused so much grief. His vision wavered and swam as he strove to beat off the pile of savage bodies. The lights in the room, the life of the machine, faded in waves, almost in time with Akiva's consciousness. In moments they would win. Tingam would keep Fostep his prisoner and crush his own civilization with the force of shadowy creatures. The spinning mirrors began to slow. The steel grip

Chapter 9: The Day of Destruction i. Race to Selenium Like a comet, the smoking suit flew through the air and crashed before us! Loh Nala had made it, but only just. He collapsed right after landing. With our bare hands, we batted the flames from the fur and removed his helmet. Strips were torn from what little clothing we still had, and we bandaged his sensitive eye. Mardo Tor came and joined Kardo in propping him up. We had no time left to us, the mountain would come down upon us. We had to retrace the journey I had taken days ago. I could not help the pain that came again and again in my breast at the sight of these three men suffering so bravely. As proud as I was to know them all, that I might dare to call them my friends, I felt a magnetic compulsion, a desire just to hold and keep them safe. If there was a time for such emotion, it was not that time. The reception area where I had first met the Ponna was littered with the dead, men who had been taken down by the