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Issue: 837 | 17th day of Hiding, Y20 |
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by welikedots
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Great stories!
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 Paranoia
Danner leaned on his desk and rubbed his temples, hoping to coax his blasting headache away. A tiny trail of steam from a piping hot cup of tea wafted slowly toward his head, imparting a most metallic and bitter scent. He did not particularly enjoy tea, let alone this mauled abomination that the castle's potion-master had brewed for him, but it did work for its intended purpose, presumably.
by likelife96 |
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 The Curse of the Impatient Seamstress
Justine smiled brightly as she surveyed her sewing room. It was immaculate. Not only was it immaculate, but it was filled with only the finest equipment and materials available. She shrugged the bag on her shoulder off and sat it down on her table next to her sewing machine. She pulled out the pattern she had just bought and sat it down on the table. She had promised herself that she would finish this dress before morning, and she wasn’t ready to break her promise to herself.
by rocksysmom |
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 Regar and the Potion
The light from the fire was just bright enough to illuminate Regar’s desk. The parchments were rolled up onto each other, the wet ink smearing at the corners. The fire also shone an orange light onto the other fixtures of Regar’s home: the tall bookshelf filled with every magic book under the sun, potions that had been passed down from masters to apprentices for thousands of years, specimens that seemed to move when just out of eyeshot, a rusty kettle atop an old wooden end table, a thick shaggy coat that hung on the wall beside an intricate walking stick, and, finally, a musty cot, taken from an abandoned cabin and covered with moss to add comfort.
by butterflybandage |
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