A dark, fantastical tale that is intended to unfold a paragraph, or thereabouts, at a time.
6 Oct 2020 1 minute read 0 comments Jay Lonnquist $0.00
But now it danced and spun like a bloody smear against the darkness. With all but it's uncanny eyes guarded behind a wimple and veil as deeply red as the rest of it. Eyes, wide and glistering like pools of cracked glass in the tepid light of a single...
4 Oct 2020 1 minute read 0 comments Jay Lonnquist $0.00
Once it came wearing red. Incarnadine like freshly spilled heart-blood, still warm from the wound. Most often it moved here and there in flowing cloth of silken coal. In black cord, bitumen colored ribbons and knots.
3 Oct 2020 1 minute read 0 comments Jay Lonnquist $0.04
Perhaps I might fetch you a rat, or a little mouse, instead of that... It said with a tender wryness, unseen as he peered at the wrinkled and pebbly stone-work. The voice retreating into the distance on the softness of bare footfalls.
1 Oct 2020 1 minute read 0 comments Jay Lonnquist $0.00
Instead he moves to face the wall and tepid trickle of water, ruefully gnawing at the crust of his last black-seed cake. Trying to remember how many days had receded since his descent into the Shallows. He regrets not pocketing the locket-clock in hi...
30 Sep 2020 1 minute read 0 comments Jay Lonnquist $0.00
Another pause and a stillness belied only by the sifting of some nearby particulate. He waits. He provides no reply. He has never given answer to its unpredictable strings of nonsense. Its partially fulfilled rhymes and unlikely thoughts.
29 Sep 2020 1 minute read 0 comments Jay Lonnquist $0.07
Oh, Little Basket, Oh, In a Little Orchard, My Little Petal. Oh, in a Little Basket, The Little Pin-Man a Little Hen He Poached...
29 Sep 2020 1 minute read 0 comments Jay Lonnquist $0.00
There follows a breath, a pause like poison honey waiting to drip slow from the cusp of a spoon. Its voice is sweet and spare. Both queerly alluring and elusively repulsive.
29 Sep 2020 1 minute read 0 comments Jay Lonnquist $0.35
It would disappear for many hours, when the air in the roughly shaped room warmed a little, leaving him to toss uneasily on the flinty floor. Then again it would return with sweet musical mockery when the gloom had grown cool. He thought only of his...
29 Sep 2020 1 minute read 0 comments Jay Lonnquist $0.07
His gaze is gritty with gray motes of dryness and heavy, deprived of anything but days of the most fitful rest and more significantly, by a thick directionless fear that refuses to thin. He sips lukewarm water from rough crockery. A yellow-gray cup a...
29 Sep 2020 1 minute read 0 comments Jay Lonnquist $0.07
My mother named me Pyna...In a soft sing-song, an unnerving iambic.It slides, now soundlessly, on naked little toes from out his muddy gaze then back again, to and fro.Shadow to gloom, dark to adumbration, then back again.Sand and rock-salt pebbles r...
