Captian's Log Smiled 30 Mar 202621 Mar 2026 Still, one would wish the world be a little more sensible, I thought crawling into my car, a little less ostentatiously inconstant. Seatbelt, key, engine's roar, mirror, slowly pulling out,…
Captian's Log Smiled 29 Mar 202621 Mar 2026 Was I mad? Was the world? Was this a dream? Why had I smiled, and why had it felt so bitter, that smile I made at the wall and black…
Captian's Log Smiled 28 Mar 202621 Mar 2026 And was it all a dream? The thin, black lettering was gone, the wall clean. There was no sign of a pressure washer or smell of fresh paint. I stopped…
Captian's Log Smiled 27 Mar 202621 Mar 2026 "Have you stopped to smile today?" asked the spray paint, a black scrawl against a white wall. I smiled before I knew it, half-sorry I did. It was not born…
Captian's Log The Immured III 16 Mar 20267 Mar 2026 The smiling old man quietly stepped back, step by slow step, as his sacrifice prepared the way. Saved from the noose, that unspoken threat of a whisper in the ears…
Captian's Log The Immured II 15 Mar 20267 Mar 2026 Voices. Indiscernible. Muted. The eternal darkness, the infinite silence, interrupted. She held her breath, standing stock still in her moldering tomb. Then, oh great God in heaven! Yes, the tapping.…
Captian's Log The Immured I 14 Mar 20267 Mar 2026 "Brick by brick," he muttered, tracing the crumbling lines of the mortar with an ancient finger. "What?" I asked. "Don't you find this wall a little odd?" he deferred. I…
Captian's Log Blood Letting III 9 Mar 20267 Mar 2026 I run my hand over the wooden surface, and feel a prick. Ecstasy. The blood begins to seep out of me. Troublesome heat, passion, the black splinter in my finger…
Captian's Log Blood Letting II 8 Mar 20267 Mar 2026 When they found it, I am told, where they found it, I should say—they found it over a pool of blood. They thought at the time, but we learned, that…
Captian's Log Blood Letting I 7 Mar 2026 The sarcophagus, as it was termed, was of a black, very polished material. There was a grain one could feel running his hand over its contours, but the perfect nothingness…
