Fragment 68

Pyna bends and sniffs like a hunting-beast at the tenderly-painted receptacles, balanced reverently. 

She is careful not to touch the immaculate shrine-plate, though her finger drifts towards the creamy contents of the curving bowl. 

There to hang for the length of a heart-flutter above its buttery stillness. 


Souring and cold


Once warm and 

Liquorice, like…


She trails off, lips faintly parted as though awaiting a sigh. 

Umin observes wordlessly, his face a wary mask, as an ever so slight tremor touches her hovering hand. 

Eyes for a hairsbreadth seeming wider and winking brighter. In those confines something carnivorous.


Oh these




Her hand falls away with a rustle of silk-cloth, as apparently unperturbed as ever as she turns to touch a door panel, rapping faintly. 

There is a wooden echo followed by a rattle, like that of a parched, hollow gourd being shaken. 

A tepid, urine-discoloured light streams from the uneven gap beneath the door.

Slippered footfalls and a silent pause.

The door opens a crack upon well-oiled hinges to reveal a florid half-face, squinting from disturbed sleep.


Forgive me, Senic

This rousal at



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Jay Lonnquist
Jay Lonnquist

Poet / Designer / Developer / Coder

Storytelling, in Paragraph Proportions
Storytelling, in Paragraph Proportions

A dark, fantastical tale that is intended to unfold a paragraph, or thereabouts, at a time.

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