A man stands watching the horizon waiting for sunset on the anniversary of his wife’s death.
Azure blue suffused with emeralds. Sea or land, sea on ‘scape. Radiance skipping over the surface penetrating, penetrating the void.
Sensation of moving standing still. Changing visions predicting the future. An orb rolls in the influence counting in microseconds.
Cold immensity so severe for aeons. Textural tendrils that tug and suck you down, fortune lost. Calmed at this late hour being both ground and vistas.
Sweating, sweetened salinated that expands over aqueous fields. The hot red shudders in the bosom. Guts all a flutter. Liquid forms before corneas.
Joints absorb this frigidity hamstrung and hands stung. Not long now, matter pulsating.
Duty observed, honour restored, guilt assuaged. For years bereft of Cecelia. Gloriana blessed Celestial majesty.
Free Lance and the Lake of Skulls by Paul Stewart and Chris Riddell - review by Maryom The jousting season is over, and Free Lance is making his way from town to town looking for ways to earn his keep - a small tournament,...
3 days ago