Get your investigator caps on; we’re looking at footprints and chasing breadcrumbs!
N:Era: Vixen of the Dead by SaviorFoxOwlis, literature
Literature
N:Era: Vixen of the Dead
"Vixen of the Dead" Even after all the work to return people's emotions, several crystals hung on the palace wall, glinting with red anger or purple fear. Their colorful, almost flirtatious, display only occasionally captured the diners' attentions. Queen Raynfall enacted this "criminal therapy" as an ill-advised attempt to protect Glacialane, even helping herself with her newfound remedy. But instead of ruling more logically, she slumped. Without emotion, there was no logical reason to care about survival. Cyras sat at her right, eyeing her over the sea of food. When she fought the queen, her will won out—her battle prowess was insufficient—but even after Queen Raynfall admitted her wrongdoing, the rebuilding process took time. Honestly, if the Queen's cabinet didn't notice she was depressed, then the chefs should have. The dining lounge was filled with offerings to the altar of Raynfall in the form of fatty cakes drizzled with chocolate. Vanilla wafers. Cocoa sprinkles. She
Just ahead of Riona Kateker and Anamadin Sheryey was the residence of substantial House of Opatra. Their objective. A gray stone wall to their left, as high as a man and then some surrounded the estate. It was punctuated ahead of them by a broad iron gate. Riona glanced warily around, searching for signs that they were being watched. Nothing so far. A cold wind blew in from the sea and a fine mist shrouded the streets. A dog barked in the distance. She could hear the conversation of the guards positioned just inside the iron gates: a debate whether they could taste any difference between white and brown-shelled chicken eggs. It sounded as if the dispute had continued for some time without any conclusion forthcoming. The estate was managed by a contingent of household and garden workers: slaves, sentenced criminals or unfortunates that couldn't pay their taxes, debtors and suchlike. Numerous guards were required to oversee such labour - though slaves hardly ever tried to escape as the
The Black Cross by BrandonScottPilcher, literature
Literature
The Black Cross
1940 The uneven chopping of the rickety old fan was never enough to beat back the heat of a San Diego summer. I’ve been meaning to install a new one, but business hasn’t been too good for me since the big depression started. Most workdays see me baking in my little office for hours, waiting for a call, a visit, or anything else to liven things up. So far as the morning was proceeding, today looked like it wasn’t going to be much different from the usual. I was ready to pour myself a glass of lukewarm bourbon for the slightest refreshment when Lizzie, my petite blonde secretary, chimed in with an announcement and a pearly smile. “Someone’s here to see you, Mr. O’Sullivan.” I straightened myself in my chair and wiped the sweat off my brow. She held the door open, and there shuffled in a gentleman in a white robe with a tiny gold cross hanging from his neck. He was balding at the top, the hair on the side fading from black to gray, and his tawny complexion was typical for a Mexican or
A few tablecloths too many by minuit-author, literature
Literature
A few tablecloths too many
Rodney Bells was an inspector with the IRS. He was a prudent, almost avaricious man, who rarely dined at restaurants and certainly not one as exclusive as the So Ho establishment Little Genoa. Whenever he and his wife Mandy went Italian', it was normally at the Pizza Hut. However, he took a great interest in Matteo Zerti and how Zerti could possibly maintain such a lifestyle on the amount he was declaring to his local tax office. The restaurant was showing a profit of a mere $ 242,000 on a turnover of just over four million dollars. So after tax, Zerti was only taking home just about $ 200,000. With a nice upper Manhattan town house, two chil
Part 1 0f 2 Late last night, I received a call,
"Hey...is it cool to visit at all?
I know you're working out of town,
but I miss you....you're not around."
It's true, I thought, as I replied,
I'm gone so much I can't decide
what would be more cruel, honestly,
to promise or lie constantly.
We agreed on when to arrive,
adding in the length of the drive.
The parents would be gone by then.
We'd be all alone until ten.
At least, that's what my plan had been,
but how could I have known...foreseen?
The little girl I babysat,
cute as a button and all that,
was tucked away at six o'clock.
Her legs akimbo and one sock
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