Like Clockwork Frequenting haunted houses is not your idea of fun. Yet, for reasons you cannot fathom, you find yourself creeping up the rickety stairs and slipping inside before the door creaks shut. The darkness is pressing; almost suffocating. You shuffle forward a little, arms outstretched to prevent any potential collisions. Even once your eyes have adjusted to the gloom, it's nearly impossible to see anything further away than a few paces.
Mr. Aramate's Wonderous Emporium of the Soul: Part Four Annie had long loved her little cottage. Not just the insides, but its position as well. From her perch in her armchair she had a perfect view out her window to the county field. When her knees had begun to fail and she’d been unable to visit the faire any longer her window had allowed her to keep living the experience through others. Year after year she watched the lines of people heading in, and heard their whoops and cries of joy.
Fire-Born: Part Five “That’s right, you understand now, don’t you?” Eithne said. She brought the hand with the stick backwards, and then whipped it forward. Vineti flinched, bracing herself for impact, but it never came. She opened her eyes again and saw that the stick was now lit, Eithne looking Smug. “Just as I thought.”