fiction
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Chapter 3 | le poisson
Local whitefish poached in its own juices, served with pommes vapeur, braised fennel, and beurre blanc. I would not see much of Alys Lawless again until the spring of 1842. I was twelve, and my pa figured the time had come to begin my studies in earnest. Of course, those lessons mostly revolved around what… Read more
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Vae Victis
Act 3, Chapter 3 of The Ashes of Rome Smoke coiled above the city, black and noxious. I took grim satisfaction that it lay the thickest over the Capitoline Hill. Let the damned Romans choke on the stench of our burning dead, the bastards. Brennus saw where my attention lay. “My only consolation is that… Read more
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The Geese of Juno
Act 3, Chapter 2 of The Ashes of Rome I squinted upward. The cliff face loomed over us, with the summit at least a hundred feet above. A crack in the surface caught my eye and suggested a possible solution to our predicament. I started to map the cracks that crisscrossed the cliff’s surface. Yes,… Read more
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A Feather for Garamaros
Act 3, Chapter 1 of The Ashes of Rome Sweat stung my eyes. “Grab the wheel before it falls on my head!” Urus grabbed the iron-rimmed chariot wheel and steadied it, and I helped him ram it over the axle. I wiped my forehead. “Right, only five more to go.” “Is this really going to… Read more
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A Betrayal at Clusium
Act 1, Chapter 3 of The Ashes of Rome “Why in the gods’ names are you here?” Brennus asked, thick brows drawing down as he frowned. The three Romans, the source of his consternation, stood before us. Their white togas set them apart from either the colorfully clad Clusians or our own forces. “I am… Read more
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An Offer of Employment
Act 1, Chapter 1 of The Ashes of Rome The summer sun shimmered on the sea in the distance. I took in a great lungful of salt-laden air. It was so different from summer in the mountainsor even the gentle warmth of our homeland. I’d missed Agedincum when Brennus first led us south from Gaul,… Read more
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The Roots That Clutch
“What are the roots that clutch, what branches growOut of this stony rubbish? Son of man,You cannot say, or guess, for you know onlyA heap of broken images, where the sun beats,And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief,And the dry stone no sound of water. OnlyThere is shadow under this red… Read more
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The Untimely Death of Lilly Rainwater
When R. M. Greta and Hylia announced their Hallowtide project, I knew I had to contribute. Make sure to check out the project details here and then enjoy the other ghoulish delights whipped up for your delectation. To: Shauna@HallowtideU.edu Cc: Melissa@HallowtideU.edu Subject: Re: Ethnographic Research Project Body: Hi Shauna and Melissa, My name is Ed Sherman, and I lived in Hallowtide back when… Read more
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The Stone in the Forest
For the record, the setting is 1930s Britain at the time of the Spanish Civil War. Oscar was eleven when he was sent to live with his Uncle Pelligro on the outskirts of a village called Fane. It was a year fraught with upheavals, and moving into the ramshackle house on the forest’s edge seemed… Read more