The tides change the shapes of all shores if given time and inattention, so it is with the coastlines of imagination also.
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Monday, September 19, 2011
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
excerpt from "The Prisoner in Stone"
Blood splattered across Garn Grimfang's bestial face. He smiled a toothy grin. He licked the blood from his lips. His big hands squeezed tighter around the man's neck. The man gargled on his own bile and inner juices. Garn stared into the man's eyes. The man's eyes were wide with horror, glassy with tears. The man gave a desperate slurp for air. Garn squeezed hard one last time. A bubble of blood burst from the man's mouth. A crunching sound came from his throat. The man spasmed twice then went limp. Garn held his grip for a few seconds more then gently released it. He let the man's body slump to the side of the alley wall. It had taken less than thirty seconds to kill him.
Garn opened the man's leather tunic. He checked the right side and came out with a small velvet pouch that jangled with coin. He didn't seem overly interested in this find. He checked the left side and retrieved an oilskin wallet bound with red string. Garn unknotted the string and opened the wallet. Inside were documents, all stamped with black wax bearing a split tongue imprint. Garn didn't look further. He rewrapped the wallet and slid it between the black straps of his own leather jerkin. The coin purse he hooked to his belt. Without a sound he strode into the shadows that walled the alley and vanished from sight.