Spindlewheel Stories

No one remembers what these structures were for in their heyday; but today, they serve a nobler cause supporting our lean-to’s and clotheslines. The inscriptions that once covered them have been chi…

To Holy Armiger, ey of starfire and sand, defiant captive, root and blossom of all life:

I drank Rowena's potions, as your priests require. It sits heavy on my bones, but the flower of my eye buds wi…

The belltower of that dreadful church is the first landmark to break the horizon on the return trip across the river. He spends every waking minute straining his ears to hear its bell over the choppy…

The final part to the story. Strain of Solstice by Mike.

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I worked the stone in a dull haze, my ears still ringing as I shaped the frieze depicting my grand appointment to divine artisan, following the treachery and swift execution of my predecessor. The t…

You look out on the western sea and it's hard to imagine, thousands of years ago, that broad horizon was broken up by mountains and jungle. The library's inscriptions speak of this and more of the ol…

When we talk about magic--and we're not just telling fairy tales or parlor tricks--we don't usually talk about it like puberty. But when it returned to the world, it returned in fits and spurts, horr…