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
Tag: fiction
The Copperpot Inn: Accountancy and Contracts
'A rat!' shrieked Myles Honeywort, with a falsetto that he would be later embarrassed by. Myles had recently been employed as chef of the Copperpot inn and had also just as recently retired from a low-class career of being a high-class highwayman, The rat, a neatly brushed, white and brown accountant by the name of … Continue reading The Copperpot Inn: Accountancy and Contracts
The Copperpot Inn: Rats in the Basement
Errol hadn’t always been an innkeeper. In his youth he knew of himself as a lumberjack, his days spent joyously forging through the mighty pine forests of Velik and walking unafraid of the dangers that existed in every action. He had wrestled with wolves for the warmth of a knitted cap, he had seen unfellable … Continue reading The Copperpot Inn: Rats in the Basement
Life in the Stormfront
'Gods man! There are maggots in the tea.' The outpost was squalid, a tent, constructed with vapid disinterest, had been fully saturated by the morning's rain and did more to bathe the sleeping occupant than it did to passably shelter them. From the depths of the sodden canvas a rasping snore was heard and could … Continue reading Life in the Stormfront
The Copperpot Inn: A Highwayman’s First Shift
In a quiet glade of rolling meadow, lay a peaceful lane whose serenity made the local library sound like a blacksmithy. Such was the serenity held within of this nook of draping willow, that travellers could not help but to pause here, breathing in the air and wishing that there was a teahouse nearby to … Continue reading The Copperpot Inn: A Highwayman’s First Shift
Turbine West: Part 8
'They made a mistake, a series of mistakes. Every decision that has led to this very moment has been a mistake and I disagree with the entire prospect of it continuing,' letting the formal request for transfer fall to the ground, Helma was outraged by a combination of a frustration and blazing pride for one … Continue reading Turbine West: Part 8
The Prelude of a Flying Apricot: Ensign part 3
Craddic rum. Have you ever known a drop to be so sweet? I remember a score of nights that began busily through its uncorking. With only a slight of its emboldened perfume can I recall the countless names of joyous new friends who proudly sung old songs and made sure that the bottle should find … Continue reading The Prelude of a Flying Apricot: Ensign part 3
Turbine West: Part 7
A slow blink was all that Helma could muster. The young apprentice, that quiet dusty haired child had known what Helma felt in her gut but was too stubborn to realise. It was the Day of Sun, such a heavy draw on both Turbines, a day where a small mistake could collapse the electrical grid … Continue reading Turbine West: Part 7
The Prelude of a Flying Apricot: Ensign part 2
The candles of Dormir were weakly burnt upon that night.Death had emerged from its shadow and now wore darkness as if it were a cloak, it stalked through the canaled streets of the Port and laced its footfall with the sound of dread in each step, a silent language of cold malice, a quiet whisper … Continue reading The Prelude of a Flying Apricot: Ensign part 2
Turbine West: Part 6
Dawn had risen across the sprawling reaches of desert.Two monolithic structures of iron stood resolute against the totality of sky and turned in scything sweeps of three tremendous blades that held span greater than any creature who had grown from the earth could reach.These were the Turbines of desert and as they turned man stole … Continue reading Turbine West: Part 6
Sunday Short Stories 