A short story which uses Memory Moths in a sci-fi setting. Props to Echomirage for the forum post that inspired the symbiotic Proxy Bug.
"Two possibilities exist: either we are alone in the Universe or we are not. Both are equally terrifying." -- Arthur C. Clark
There is a being we know as Manfred. His generators of randomness have aided the Citadel in times of need, but what of his career as a time-traveller? This is the first in a series uncovering the secret origins of famed Strolenati members. I fear I must type quickly, there are those who wouls not want you to read this. Will you crawl deeper into the rabbit hole?
The wide wicked world is a very dangerous place, especially for not-quite so big leeches who wish nothing so much as to be left out of thing such as wars, and wizards, and spells.
A short story set in the Locastus universe.
This a post apocalypse adventure/horror novel, the prologue of which I’m putting up here and will be updating with further chapters.
Rated R for graphic violence and some profanity.
It comes slowly, making it’s
Way toward you, a look of
Hunger could be seen In its eyes…
A modern day horror story focused around an (supposedly)abandoned insane asylum
A Sci-fi tale surrounding a Earth force captains first command and battle against an unknown alien race.
This is the first 2 1/2 chapters of my on going Battlefield promotion novella, I have attempted to blend third and first person writing together in a smooth natural fashion, and strived to keep true to the details of space as it’s understood by modern astronomy today.
It may be a bit slow to pick up the pace in the beginning, but it does gain momentum.
For those who are curious I’d consider this story to be rated PG-13 or R due to descriptive violence.
The inanimate remnants and dry husks of ideas left stillborn.
In a clearing in a long-lost wood, it was morning.
The Church of the one true God guards a terrible secret: Their God is dying. He is kept within a tank, steamworks forever pumping to keep him alive, clockwork engines forcing his laboured breathing.