The Last Man on Earth (teaser)They never really told you what to expect after the world ended. Marc Rhysson had seen loads of movies about the end of the world and read more than a few books. But they all seemed to neglect the ‘after’ part. A few hinted that after the shouting was past it was time to knuckle down and rebuild society. It would have been nice if they’d gone into a bit of detail; maybe then he’d have an idea of what to do. Marc was . . . well, Marc had been a helicopter pilot. In fact, taking his whirlybird out for a test flight was probably the reason he was still alive now. He had gotten a bird’s eye view when the sea decided to swallow the United Kingdom.He didn’t know what could cause a tsunami of such proportions in the Atlantic. Of course he knew that tsunamis were caused by earthquakes, but they normally didn’t wipe entire countries off of the map. The UK was just a set of island chains now. Ironically enough,
Happy What?Verity was not surprised when Loki knocked on her door at midnight. A lack of respect for sleep schedules was one of the mildest liberties he took. She was, however, surprised at the state he was in.The wayward god was dressed in comfortable, rumpled clothes – pajamas, she realized. His hair was a mess and the bags under his eyes said that sleep had not been a nightly visitor. He noticed the door had opened with bloodshot eyes and took a swig from an elaborately decorated bottle labelled in runes.“Verity . . . are we not friends?” he asked.Strangely enough, the mortal woman’s biggest surprise over the situation was the fact that Loki wore pajamas. He really seemed like a ‘sleeps nude’ kind of guy to her.“We are friends, Loki,” she confirmed, stepping back so he could enter the apartment.He did so, taking another long draught from the bottle he held.“And friends help each other out in times of need with
Lady Jester (Teaser)There was a screaming match going on in the meeting hall when Braith entered. The raised voices kept most away, but the human woman had long since given up fear of such mundane things.She tossed her light brown hair over her shoulder and made her way inside, her fine, elf-made dress rustling against the paving stones. The shouting gradually died down as she made her way across the room to the refreshment table, pouring herself a glass of wine.No doubt those assembled were wondering what a human woman was doing in an elf lord’s house. Oh, certainly her moss green dress scattered with woven autumn leaves was eye catching, but her beauty didn’t really compare to the elf women of the keep.Not unless you were doing a study of opposite ends of the spectrum.“Braith, what are you doing here?” Lord Ffion asked with a sigh.“Getting a glass of wine, my lord,” she answered, lifting the chalice.Elves were not known for being demonstrative.
Sea Songs (Teaser)Journal #2 of Booker Theodore Williamson, Medical officer of the HMS ReconnoiterJune 15, 1783As outlined in my previous journal, I am the only surviving (to my knowledge) member of the crew of the HMS Reconnoiter. After the wreck of my ship, I washed up on the shore of this (relatively) small island in the Caribbean (?)Upon settling myself on this unknown isle, I very quickly discovered a pod (?) of mermaids.Doubtless any of those finding this journal alone, without its predecessor, will doubt my sanity and chalk it up to the ravings of a man driven insane by solitude. In truth, I likely would have succumbed to madness were it not for studying the social constructs of these sirens.In a quick recap, the group consists of roughly thirty individuals, all - to my eyes at least - female. They vary in age from elderly to one small child of six to ten years of age. The child seems to be an anomaly. Her mother is not very attentive, though.
Love is PreciousLove is preciousBecause love is uncertain.We see utter perfectionStaring into the face of our lovesWe already see a miracle in capturing their affection.Like an ape staring at an angelThere is sunlight in their eyesFire in their heartsThe burbling splash of waves in their laughter.While we know that if they truly knewWhat we thoughtWhat we feltNo one could ever really love us.Every stray glance at anotherEvery sigh at unexpected troubleEvery angry wordMakes us think:This is it. They’re getting ready to leave.But what we don’t realizeIs that they thinkThe exact same thingAbout themselves.