The pocket watch sat at the bottom of a shoebox marked "ESTATE - MISC," and Nora Quill almost didn't notice it. She'd spent three hours sorting through the contents of a storage unit her great-aunt had left behind, mostly old letters and a moth-eaten quilt, when her fingers brushed cold metal beneath a layer of … Continue reading The Watch That Wouldn’t Keep Time
Blog Fiction
The Last Version of You
Margaret had been awake for thirty-one hours when they finally told her it was time. She sat in the waiting room of the Synapse Institute with a cup of terrible coffee going cold in her hands, watching the second hand on the wall clock make its slow, indifferent circuits. Around her, the room hummed with … Continue reading The Last Version of You
The Crown Remains
The broadsheet had been nailed to the post office door since Tuesday, but Elias Holt didn't stop to read it until Thursday morning, when the smell of old blood had finally faded enough from the square that he could stand to linger. By Order of His Majesty's Pacification Commission. All persons who bore arms against … Continue reading The Crown Remains
The Space Between Us
The thing about small towns is that everyone knows your name — and your family's name, and your grandfather's grudges, and the particular shade of bitterness your people have carried for three generations. Nora Callahan had grown up knowing two things as absolute truth: that the Callahans made the best bourbon peach jam in Harrow … Continue reading The Space Between Us
The Weight of Silver
The trail went cold three miles outside of Ashby, and Lewis Hale was bleeding again. He pressed two fingers against the gash on his forearm — a hunting knife, close call, closer than he'd had in years — and kept moving through the pine forest at a pace that would have broken a younger man. … Continue reading The Weight of Silver
The Coldest Case
The sign on the frosted glass door read Morrow Investigations in flaking gold letters, and beneath that, in smaller text that most people squinted at twice: Specializing in the Matters Others Cannot Explain. Elliot Morrow had written that line himself, eight years ago, after the Briarloch haunting. Before that job, he'd been a regular private … Continue reading The Coldest Case
The Weight of the Eagle
The aqueduct hummed. Marcus Varro had never noticed it before — not in fifteen years of service, not through three postings across the empire. But standing here in the pre-dawn stillness of the Virginian hills, listening to the ancient water channels feeding the sprawling city of Nova Londinium below, he noticed it now. A low, … Continue reading The Weight of the Eagle
The Confusing Middle 