They were everywhere.Denizens of darkness coiled knifelike in their dim shadow. Dennis could see them, the ghosts that haunted this city and followed him with dread silence. Lurking invisible and malevolent, these haunted spectres drifted nearer at each hour’s bell: a doomsome toll that heralded death. Dennis felt a presence reaching out for his mortal … Continue reading The Copperpot Inn: The Death Of Dennis Highburrow
Category: The Copperpot Inn
The collected stories of the Copperpot Inn and the surrounding people of Huxley-shire. These are generally stand-alone so jump in anywhere and enjoy.
The Copperpot Inn: A Forgetful Friar
The Friar loved the wavering nature of day. Sweeping sunsets so expansive that they spill from the edges of their easel. A skyline so basked in resplendent orange that no man or god could prepare a sonnet to fully describe its lustre. The fading light that swells with the passion of fire and then solemnly … Continue reading The Copperpot Inn: A Forgetful Friar
The Copperpot Inn: As a Candle Burns Low
The night was new. Velvet had rolled across the sky as the flicker of candles filled the hills with a light that felt as though it had drawn a breath of quietude. The ambling valley of Huxley-shire seemed to be cradled by this night; a purple shade of memory that lingered upon the silver lined … Continue reading The Copperpot Inn: As a Candle Burns Low
The Copperpot Inn: On Millers and Highwaymen
Two friends sat by a flour cart in a dampened glade of hanging willow and watched as the distant sun made its way for the lantern of the moon. The day became warm as the rain slackened, and a soft light now filtered down into the grassland, moving about the shadows gently as if it … Continue reading The Copperpot Inn: On Millers and Highwaymen
The Copperpot Inn: A Tax-collector Approaches part 3
A small scream was barely audible over the heavy tumble of the rain that fell in puddles upon the farmstead of the Dryfords. It was a laughing scream, an oscillating wail of such conflicted emotion that many ears would have scarcely believed it to have come from the small rat clutched in the talons of … Continue reading The Copperpot Inn: A Tax-collector Approaches part 3
The Copperpot Inn: A Tax-collector Approaches part 2
'Please…one moment…I Just need…one moment.' Four droplets of rain fell lightly against a cutting of sail cloth, pulled taught over the flour cart of Helga Miller. The mass of clouds overhead burgeoned with rain and grew heavy as they approached. The morning was held in a sullen kind of mood, a greyness that lived in … Continue reading The Copperpot Inn: A Tax-collector Approaches part 2
The Copperpot Inn: A Tax-collector Approaches
A heavy cloud loomed over the green hills and filled the day with the urgency of rain. Colours receded below the overcast pall and the meadow's lush grass was bent southward with dew. There was a storm developing in the air; a crisp burst Autumn wind pulled lowly across the ground and mischievously stole a … Continue reading The Copperpot Inn: A Tax-collector Approaches
The Copperpot Inn: The Wolves of Velik Mountain
The redwood fell without ceremony.It was not the largest within the Huxley-shire Forest, but Errol never felt at ease when cutting down a tree that was too tall for his means. In his days as a Lumberjack, he had been given the nickname of Cottonwood: a tall tree, thoughtful in how it shaded the land, … Continue reading The Copperpot Inn: The Wolves of Velik Mountain
The Copperpot Inn: Friars and Millers
The Friar was terrible at funerals. Not the words, he was great at words. Sprawling sonnets of unfurling intrigue would readily leap from his melodious tenor as he spoke. He would enrapture the assembled crowd, beguiling them with vociferous language and canny parable. He would express his speeches with care, curating them toward the spirit … Continue reading The Copperpot Inn: Friars and Millers
The Copperpot Inn: On Lamplight
The world was to be called Lamplight.In the stretching infinitude of time, the name Lamplight was only a minor part of creation's splendour. It was the title of an intricately woven tapestry, a mural of light and sound that each hand had a role in shaping. Ten-thousand threads of harmony that were laced between every … Continue reading The Copperpot Inn: On Lamplight
Sunday Short Stories 