The radio held two bands. Dotted stations aligned just beyond sight that operated on the longwave. The voice of each station was clear, its equipment easy to replace. Operators chatted idly when traffic was low, they collected information, they researched. Theirs was a signal that darted across the sky in murmuration, a pattern of dialog, … Continue reading A Foggy Place in Morning: Part 6
Tag: story
🪔 Lundra: The Falling Rain – Part 2
The sun wearily shuffles across a Lundrian morning both haggard and uncaffeinated. It arrives without lustre, a faint glow still adorned by the pyjamas of a rolling cloud-line. Filtered light then greets the day with a yawn, settling dew drips down from the moss-covered peaks and onto the rolling hills, onto the emerald green grass … Continue reading 🪔 Lundra: The Falling Rain – Part 2
A Foggy Place in Morning: Part 5
Amalie watched the speaker for some time. The burn of static had stripped the paint from the speaker where it had embered, the wooden cabinet below left greyed with atrophy as it had died. She had seen the static; she had almost brought it into her station. Frantically the station operator began checking the receiver … Continue reading A Foggy Place in Morning: Part 5
🪔 Lundra: The Falling Rain – Part 1
It was raining. It had always rained in Lundra. Chroniclers, distracted by the steady drip of untraceable leaks, would be heard throughout the annals of time, crying out in lament as another drenched manuscript lay ruined and in the need of redrafting. Water in the inkwell, again; damp settling into the air and turning important … Continue reading 🪔 Lundra: The Falling Rain – Part 1
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
A Foggy Place in Morning: Part 4
Amalie…Amalie! Light returned in a concussion of noise, confused vision crackling to life behind tired eyelids. The wavering talk of people close by was muffled and made Amelie feel as though among friends. There was laughter; smells of lamp oil and frying fat intertwined with the humid air; a vague sweetness settled underneath her awakening … Continue reading A Foggy Place in Morning: Part 4
A Foggy Place in Morning: Part 3
The Port was a small cut of land. A single street of roughly hewn timber and dark tile. Brick chimneys lain on occasional rooftop and standing in contrast to a place built more from necessity than comfort. Lining the snow-covered road where a row of steps, haggard and worn. They lead into each house and … Continue reading A Foggy Place in Morning: Part 3
A Foggy Place in Morning: Part 2
She hadn't slept. A grey light washed its way onto the frigid shores of port as the fragmented voice still lingered just beyond the edges of static. Every radio was alive with noise, twelve channels open, the switch unattended and scanning freely. Every patch bay was full, every speaker had been plugged in and was … Continue reading A Foggy Place in Morning: Part 2
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
A Place of Fog and Morning: Part 1
The echo of static, noise, light. And so, it was as it had ever been. A quiet town that had forgotten that sun lay below as dark clouds coiled endlessly across the coastline. A heavy grey seafoam lapped against the wood covered beach in languid pall as the grey rock of the harbour stood next to … Continue reading A Place of Fog and Morning: Part 1
Sunday Short Stories 