(Fiction) In the Web of the Maze Master

I was not then entirely sure where I was, but it seemed clear we had reached our destination, for a congress of cats waited. Felines of all breeds and colors—a few with collars, like my tabby, but most without—sat on the walls and ledges, fence posts and trash cans above and around me. It would’ve... Continue Reading →


(Fiction) The casting of darkness

The train rocked as it slowed and the picture in my hand rocked with it. My finger traced the single splatter of blood that stretched across the scattered feathers, many of which seemed to have been cut obliquely by a swipe from something very sharp. The train lurched hard and I dropped the photo. I... Continue Reading →

(Fiction) The Dunvluddich Furnace

Buried underneath a brick warehouse, and near another that had been into upscale shopping was an enormous spherical chamber made entirely of the heavy industrial steel of a bygone era. Two hemispherical sections were joined at their collars by giant bolts. Inside the five-story space was a structure of tanks and piping held aloft by... Continue Reading →

(Fiction) The Winter Bureau

That was my welcome to America. Prison. Upon my release, I was placed into the custody of a man of ill health, ill fortune, and ill name: Spurgeon Fount, a parapsychologist-acolyte of Richard Hodgson—the man who, as an analyst for the Psychical Research Society, had discredited and disgraced HPB for speaking openly of The Masters.... Continue Reading →

(Fiction) The Ghost in the Labyrinth

After Beltran’s visit, some of my restrictions were lifted. I was not allowed to speak to Etude, and I had no idea where in the cavernous dungeons he was being held—the same dungeons where the Eye was discovered some seven centuries before. I was also kept from the high towers, where everything important seemed to... Continue Reading →

(Fiction) The Scent of Dreaming

As I ascended the ladder-like steps to the cupola, my mind was on thread and silk and how I wanted to look my best for Benjamin’s funeral. When I reached the top, I found that reaching the trap door to close it unfortunately required me to ascend halfway into the octagonal room, which was barely... Continue Reading →

(Fiction) A State of Immanent Corruption

You will thus understand my surprise when, after I was rescued from the attic in Whitechapel, the police informed that I had a solicitor and that he had secured for me an exit from a lengthy prison sentence. The solicitor, a Mr. Bentley, told me he was employed by another attorney, an American named Olcott.... Continue Reading →

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