Captian's Log Drabble Series: Driftwood 29 Jul 202028 Jul 2020 My bleeding lips crack under the burning sun. The sweet taste of my own blood is all I have to drink—there is no water but that deadly brine the ocean…
Captian's Log Drabble Series: Driftwood 28 Jul 2020 Safe from the murderous sea, I watch as bits of broken timber are thrown up by the tide onto land. I am this dead wood's elder brother, for so I…
Captian's Log Short: The Music of Zelethon 24 Jul 2020 The crystal chimes of the planet Zelethon are ever humming low, their chords harmonizing in intricate patterns that no man can understand. It is said that the music of Zelethon…
Captian's Log Short: The Scream 23 Jul 2020 I heard a scream in the night, a terrible sound, but it touched me in a way I didn't expect. You see, the sound, that distant scream, I liked it.…
Captian's Log Short: Nothing 20 Jul 2020 "The timeless darkness which waits even now for our momentary light to flicker and be gone, in sundry ways seeps into our life, its many tentacles, like a million little…
Captian's Log Drabble: The Abandoned Rooms of Reality 19 Jul 2020 There are secret places in this world, hidden doors, closed off rooms, which some remember. They remain in shadows, and there is darkness within them. I have stolen into one,…
Captian's Log Drabble: The Archer 18 Jul 2020 The string is taut; the bow is bent; the arrow straight. The dart, it flies; the dart, it hits; the dart, it kills. The man, he falls; the blood pours…
Captian's Log The Bard’s Song 16 Jul 2020 The languid music, like some suffocating gas, slowly worked upon the patrons a dreadful drowsiness. It could not even be called boredom. Those who listened to the bard's song weren't…
Captian's Log Short Story: Drainpipe 15 Jul 2020 An old drainpipe, clothed in patches of green lichen, drips continually beside me. The house it's connected to is old, worn down. It rained last night, and it was cold.…
Captian's Log Short Story: The Silent Darkness 13 Jul 2020 The darkness of the house cannot be seen. It is felt. It's in every creaking floorboard or protruding, rusted nail. It's there in the mold covered cupboards, their shelves empty…
Tale Told 