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30min Anthology #17

The world shattered. The gilded edges cracked along their facets and the pain blinded Acklin. "Take these next steps carefully child of Sonz, your world may not be ready." Acklin gasped as the words echoed through the shattering world around him. The air filled his lungs and it's bitter cold stung. Contrasted against the warmth pooling on his clavicle, he clenched his teeth for the second blow, but it never came.

The sound of Acklin's gasping pains frightened Wallace. He leered back, his stomach lurched, a stream of blood stained his boots. He turned to scream in fear but his legs didn't cooperate. Instead he fell, hard, onto the clustered seedlings surrounding him. Thin needles of gold teared into his flesh and began to writhe. Wallace cried out in pain and Acklin shared in his moments of terror, short as they might be.

The moment only worsened as the pain caused Wallace to instinctively move. To pull himself from whatever attacked him. He rolled trying to flee but only found new spurs eager to drink like its cousins. The throws of Wallace's pain were sure to draw attention. First it drew Acklin's. Acklin peeled his eyes open, he could feel the crust of gem crackle and pop. He drew a hand from his prison, the crystal cracked into chunks and fell to the black stone, as he clawed at his eyes then his nose where he then drew in a sharp breath coughed a little and then furiously pushed free from the cocoon of fool's gold.

Acklin fell to his knees half slumped over Wallace and he squirmed in pain. Acklin fought against the blinding light. His mind raced over stimulated as chaos was drawn to chaos and voices shouted, echoing off the Hallows walls like terrible temple bells. Wallace pleaded for help. Acklin latched to him, held him down managing to pin the smaller man underneath him. The weight of pyrite that clung to him made it easier. "Don't move." Acklin rasped. Wallace tried but the pain wasn't something anyone could ignore, no matter their will. "It hurts, make it stop." Wallace cried.

Acklin squinted against the light of the sunstone, the only thing besides sound that managed to find him in those dark months. Acklin looked over the miner, his arms were speared with thin rails of pyrite. They creaked as they grew, like a nail drawn across glass. The sound chilled Acklin, standing the hairs on the back of his neck. A few spurs could be removed, granted the few were often in a single limb and losing that was better than your life. What did one do when the victim looked more like a pin cushion than a living thing? The fake gold continued to grow and Acklin could think of only one thing. These had been a part of him had they not?

He gripped the closest cluster, knowing better than to rip the maze of crystal, he squeezed the seed. He figured he could sense through the extension like he had, but there was no extrasensory response. Instead the cluster cracked and crumbled to dust in his hand. Acklin wasted no time on this hail mary. One by one they turned to dust in his hand. The panic numbed his fingers and he feared he'd collapse. Wallace grew quiet and Acklin prayed he'd passed out from pain. Acklin rolled him to one side, his hand pressed into the crust obscuring the floor, it was far more brittle than it should be. The pyrite turned to dust and the two sank into the sands of fool's gold. The ground was hot as Acklin finished the spurs that lined Wallace's back.

Acklin paused to sigh, but was interrupted by the several heavy foot falls of miners. All much older and seasoned than he.

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30min Anthology #16

Wallace Vander Kell stood at the farthest depths of the Dreamer's Sea, that anyone had delved in years. Something about the waters had changed, they receded deeper every day. Uncovered richer deposits and showed the horrors of the old days. When trials ended with the executed sinking into darker depths. The more it seemed the Insani fed the sea the higher it climbed. Wallace wondered if it craved his people, the idea that the bodies displaced the water was too horrific, sheer volumes needed. He hoped it wasn't possible.

The hikes to these depths trailed on. Paths winded to and fro, as the decent snaked deeper. Fascinated by the beauty of the pyrite, Wallace was more interested in having a rest. Wallace rested gingerly onto the back stone of the shelf, careful to avoid the crusted lengths of crystals that crawled along the floor. Patches of seedling crystals were an incredible find, if extremely dangerous. If handled improperly the shards could borough into the skin and be rooted within your vascular system in seconds. Just another awful reality of the Hollow.

Whilst Wallace rested the rest of the miners could be heard working away at the stone and raw gem collected here. Their axes muddied the sounds of hard work, drowned out the cries of foremen too many shelves up. As Wallace pulled from his canteen he scribbled on sheets of rough stone. Carved the shapes of the soul bound in pyrite before him, he grimaced at the haunted look on its twisted face. He could see the recognition in the furrowed brow and clenched jaw. "Cast into the waters whilst still alive huh?" Wallace muttered.

The sound of Wallace's voice was covered up by the hammer of axes, but Acklin struggled to make it out. His heart sank a little, but his mind rejoiced. The miner did not recognize him and so he thought himself safe from his fears. He wondered instead what it was going to be like when he pulled free an axe and swung to cleave into his body. He hadn't felt pain as the parts of him were crushed under the man's boots, but he could also tell they were attached like the rest of him was. They were like an extension, formed from some process he figured someone could explain, if he had the chance to ask.

Wallace continued to scratch into his stone and Acklin enjoyed the peace. A few short moments before Wallace stood and Aklins' fears tightened around his mind. The soft crunch of gem crust sounded as Wallace carefully approached. Keeping a keen eye out for any spurs, Wallace dawned his gloves and drew a crescent axe from the loop on his belt. Aklin clenched whatever eyes he had in his head as Wallace raised his weapon overhead and brought it down with a sickening crunch. It reverberated all throughout Acklins mind. It echoed off the walls like a massive bell and his fears were answered. Like his flesh was ripped the pain came searing into his mind.

[strixramus]

30min Anthology #15

The hours turned into days and Acklin's fears grew into numbed terror. Nothing changed after a month being trapped. The darkness had given away on occasions, replaced with a dull golden light that shadowed a world of sharp corners that lined the infinite endlessness that surrounded him on all sides. Like clock work it filled the void and with it Acklin could feel the tides of the Dreamer's Sea as they flowed up and down the shelves. He realized in the first few weeks that none of the miners reached these depths. The cold waters never parted Acklins side, his depth too deep.

The months counted up and Acklin had nothing to do, so he counted. He occupied his mind to fend off the madness looming over him. Each day the world glowed golden, he figured the waters were shallow enough to be penetrated by the sunstone's brilliance. The change was subtle but as the days marched by the glow grew ever brighter. When it blinded Acklin he finally realized, the waters retreated more and more. When the waters first left his side he sighed with such relief, the glow of the sunstone was warm. His frigid body rejoiced, then his ears rang. The sounds of digging echoed around him. Whispered voices danced about him, the miners had arrived.

Seven months Acklin thought he dreaded it would never come, but something changed. More and more the waters fled, he didn't ask why he only basked in the joys he'd been starved of. It didn't last long, as his curiosity expanded and so too did his concerns. If the Dreamer's Sea turned flesh to precious gem, what would the miners do with the statue of he who "betrayed" them. Would Mama Eddie's words linger on their minds? Would they add insult to injury and toss him deeper into the sea? Acklin's heart chilled, would he be teased with sweet relief just so the pain of losing it again stung even greater.

Consumed by these thoughts Acklin missed the approaching foot falls. Heavy boots crunched under the crust of seedling jewels. A thick layer of pyrite encrusted the ground surrounding the largest cluster the miner had ever seen.

"Damn." Wallace sighed in awe.

Acklin's attention snapped forward. His eyes searched about but only the golden world was in view. Now he heard as boots trekked closer, Acklin gasped soundlessly as he felt the foot fall. Part of him spiraled out from his body, along the shelf floor. Tendrils of sensory mass tensed and flexed as he lost feeling to some small degree.

The miner drew in close as he admired the vein of fools gold growing along the cliff's edge. He winced as the mass was unmistakably human in shape. "Poor fool, how'd you go and find yourself at the bottom of this fine mess."

[strixramus]

30min Anthology #14

Acklin was swallowed up by the darkness. The pain of his flesh passed. The frigid waters of the Dreamer's Sea numbed him. He hadn't made it far before a well placed arrow stole his breath as it thudded between his shoulder blades. The mob didn't hesitate as they pelted him with stones.

Acklin no longer feared the waters of the sea. Compared to the rest of the world he knew, they were a welcomed comfort. The darkness continued to grow around him. The white light of the sunstone oppressed as the growing weight of his body buried him deeper into the depths. They hadn't lied when they told the stories of the Dreamer's Sea. Those unfortunate enough to find their flesh exposed to the Dreamer's waters were doomed to death at the bottom of the sea. Their bodies wreathed in a crust of jewels, petrified in crystal. Acklin had found the whole idea a bit fantastical as a child. The stories of statue gardens on the lowest shelves, frozen depictions of horrified people.

Acklins' fears changed. As times passed and his heart slowed, his mind became more aware. The first thing that crossed his mind was the terrifying reality that he had not died. The arrows in his back and the repeated blows to his head were not enough. He was alive, but his body frozen, out of his control. The silence weighed on him more and more. The darkness had already swallowed him whole, but despite this terrifying new state, he realized he had seen light as he sank. He had heard the dulled cheers of his killers. Something was amiss.

Acklin tried to draw in a breath, but his lungs couldn't be moved. He felt the cold waters around him, felt his rock hard body settle into the muck and rock of some shelf deep in the sea. He moved his eyes in their sockets as he failed to search the darkness. It seemed to Acklin that this was akin to a terrible dream. He was aware that nothing here made sense, aware that beyond this void he had a body that experienced a world different to the one his mind occupied. Acklin was no longer in control and so he screamed.

[strixramus]

30min Anthology #13

All eyes were on him now. Acklin watched on in stunned horror. Hundreds of faces looked down on him and he couldn't imagine what for. Their faces shadowed by the sunstone's light made it hard to read what they felt. Mama Eddie was practically consumed by the light. Acklin imagined that she must look an awful lot like the Sun the gem derived its name. Brilliant and blinding, deadly and mysterious.

Acklin was forced to snap back to the present moment. He couldn't lose himself to fantasies now. He had already wasted enough time gawking. It seemed the men around him had stepped away in his moment of confusion and awe. They wadded back to the slopes of the shelves and stepped free from the waters that now climbed to Acklin's waist. "This young man. Who my son would have claimed as his own. Has taken from us the only good thing that ever came from these pits." Mama Eddie's voice cried out. Acklin was stunned for the second time. His mind raced with his heart. "The Queen has curled her claws into one of our own. Entreated him with their pleasures and asked of him a true sin." Mama Eddie licked her lips with a look of lust in her eyes. "The Queen and her royals feared the power my son cultivated and now they aim to make an example of those who dare to rise above their position. Tonight we will set an example for those who take what is not theirs. Tonight we declare war against the Queen."

Acklin was dumbfounded. He racked his brain, searching for a reason for this madness. He wanted to cry out, to question his grandmother, but the crowds roared over his stammered words. Whatever this was, Acklin knew the truth, but Mama Eddie's spectacle overshadowed him. Acklin's confusion became fear. The cool waters continued to rise. He turned towards the slope of the shelf, but a mob crowded its edge. He wadded forward anyway. He wasn't the kind who laid down and died. He had grown up on the streets, just him and his mother. When she died, he had survived alone in the darkness for twelve years. He had a reputation on the streets. One he figured was a great excuse for Mama Eddie's deception.

Ahead of Acklin came weighty stones. Heaved by hands who's fears of the Dreamer's Sea were replaced by a roaring rage fanned by Mama's silver tongue. Behind him the whistle of obsidian tipped arrows. Of which one was not intended for him. Instead it was coated in pitch, lit upon the dying pyre and loosed towards the funeral boat. The curtains called on tonight's unforeseen execution.

[strixramus]

30min Anthology #12

Orman Sonz was a powerful man. He'd come from power and cultivated what he was born into. In the Hollow his family was well known, but none were quite as well known as he. Orman led the impoverished trash of the Queens city towards higher peaks. He had taken the killers and criminally insane and worked them into hard cut jewels. The Queen and her City had forgotten about them, by design, but they never could have foreseen how one man could twist a clever lie into an empire.

Acklin stood thigh deep in the Dreamer's Sea. The crowds were silent as they listened. Orman's mother spoke to them. Spoke of her love and fear, of the leaps her son made for his people. She cherished his memory, swore in his name and she mourned his death. Acklin did not share her feelings. He never knew the man. Never had the pleasure to know him as a father. Instead the coward acted the fool.

Acklin remembered all the times he brought food and water to his mother. All the times he had the chance to speak his truth. The man had only come to say kind words and leave meals. Acklin could see his eyes in himself. He stared into his reflection until he lost himself. A swirl of faint colors reflecting in the pyre's light. He felt the boat shift as the men lowered it, his body absently following whilst his wind wandered. He missed what came next.

"My son was a beacon of hope in this cold shadow. Many of us can not remember the days before my son. But I can." Mama Eddie's voice seethed with bitter history. "I can remember children. Abandoned, abused and beaten down. No light in the dark. Families killing each other to survive another endless night." The crowd held their kin closer now. Her words spun visions of the unthinkable. "Orman found our hope! He dug it from the cold stones. Found our salvation under the very grounds we laid our heads for generations." Mama Eddie held aloft a faceted marvel. A sunstone the size of her fist. "He brought light to our homes.'' The echo of Mama Eddie's voice was overrun by the cheers of thousands. In her hand the stone shined. A brilliant white spark whose light cut through the reds and oranges of the pyre and bathed the whole of the Hollow in its brilliance. People cried from the pain of its light but more so from the hope it would bring. Mama Eddie's tears were full of pained hatred.

"But" Mama cried "But they" she held a finger towards the heights. "They have killed my son." The crowd died down, a deathly silence moving through them. Sobs stifled and fears grew. Acklin stirred from his melancholy thoughts and returned to a crooked finger hooked in his direction.

[strixramus]

30min Anthology #11

The waters that bubbled up from the sea brought with it a terrible and strange curse. Everyone who lived in the Hollow grew up on tales of the Dreamer's Sea. A fairy tale told to the young to teach them of things too horrible to experience. Acklin, unlike most, found that the story was far more fantastical than dreadful. The Dreamer's Sea was intended to warn of the dangers of its waters, should they be handled improperly. The first rule in fact was that under no circumstance should anyone handle waters drawn from the sea with bare skin. Those who did became extra work for the miners guild.

Acklin looked out over the sea. Its waters creeped up the rocky cliffside at a snail's pace. In a few short hours the waters would swallow this shelf, pushing all the miners up to the next. As it had everyday before and would everyday after. Today was somewhat different however. The miners did not wear their hard hats or carry their picks. Instead, they gathered around the rim of the sea with tithes to offer its depths. Accompanied by loved ones on this rare occasion. They had all come to honor their chief, the boss, Acklin's father.

Looking out over the crowds, who all visibly shared the same apprehension of the waters below, Acklin spotted Braun and his three sons. All of which held the same fears of the Sea. Too far to see him or too worried to take their eyes off the accursed water, they did not see Acklin. He was standing along the long side of a funeral boat. Five other men spaced around, everyone of them in the same terrible hides he wore. Worse now after they were dusted with a fine quartz powder. The stuff choked Acklin's lungs as it puffed through the air, but it couldn't be helped, it was tradition.

With everything ready the ceremony finally began. One by one the men heaved the vessel onto their shoulder, sharing the burden of its weight. Stepping to the tune of the echoing drums they marched down the sloped rock and earth. Every beat brought them closer and closer to the Dreamer's Sea. Aklin could feel the sweat on his brow, the droplets crashing onto the hides before rolling off in perfect beads. None could touch the hide. It relaxed Acklin, seeing the water incapable of penetrating the quartz. His fears eased, but as the men before him splashed into the waters his stomach still lurched. Before he knew it a coolness enveloped his feet. Slowly it rose as the ceremony carried him forward. His heart raced and he flinched at the last thunderous beat of the drum. The Hollow silenced and he sighed with relief as the closing of the ceremony began.

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30min Anthology #10

Arlyml picked himself up off the ground, splinters raining from the folds of his clothes. Charlies sat in his second favorite chair with a look of displeasure as she sipped his tea. "Charlie, what have I said about disturbing my work?" Arlyml rested his hands upon his hips as he scowled down at charlies. Arlyml was anything but intimidating especially if you knew him as well as Charlie did. She gave him her most unimpressed look and he relented and became aware of the state of his trousers. His confident disapproval turned three shades of red as he filled with embarrassment. Charlie wasn't concerned, as Arlyml's apprentice there wasn't much she hadn't had the displeasure of seeing. "I brought you your tea Master Arlyml, and considering the embarrassment of this moment, I'll be taking the rest of the day off.'' She gave him a stern look and an impish smile and Arlyml just relented. "Very well not like my permission would have changed a thing. You would have done as you pleased either way." Arlyml took up a cup and downed the bitter sweet concoction in three gulps. "You know me so well, master Arlyml. I'll be back before the stars are out." Charlie rose and made for the door. "Try not getting yourself trapped in another world won't you?" She was out the door before Arlyml could respond. His mind seemingly lagged behind him, still snapping back to this world. "Stop calling me Master, I'm your damned father, not some terrible wizard overlord." His voice trailed off as the distant footsteps of his rebellious daughter echoed through the halls.

Arlyml rose, kicking the splinters of his best chair about the floor. Searching the mess he found the tome he had previously delved. Its stained leathers were older than he, older even than his fathers grandfather. Arlyml ran his fingers over the rough hide taking in the exorbitant amount of history it must have lived. Its title was embossed in a strange crystal. It read, The Histories of the Sonz. "Alright then. Back to work." Arlymls returned the aged book to its table. With a few quick words and the tracing of his index fingers through the air. The tome awoke, its pages glowed and a void gapped within its heart. "So Acklin, I believe you are what I am looking for."

[strixramus]

30min Anthology #9

"Master? Mater Arlyml?" spoke a soft voice muffled by the volumes of tomes scattered about the masters study. A soft knock announced Charlie's arrival as she swung the doors open. A tea set in hand and a curious look upon her carrot topped head. Arlyml couldn't hear the young woman's calls. His head, it appeared, was shoved too deep within his current book. A rather gritty tale about humans huddled within the only remaining refuge from the fallout of a rather nasty magical disaster.

Charlie was quite concerned with the master's habits as of late. For one, he required constant pampering. He could forget the simplest of human needs more often that there were hours in the day. Secondly his obsession with multidimensional theory had his head stuck in the paracausal fabric of dimensional viewing one too many times. In that very moment there was more of him sucked into the dimensional in-between than there was outside of it. "Mastery Arlyml for goodness sake. You really mustn't go sightseeing without supervision." Charlies finished the thought but immediately chagrined. All her words were in one ear and right out the next. And Arlyml couldn't blame it on the fact that his head was at the time shoved so far into dimensional space that he was more ass than man. "Oh Gods, forgive me sir, this might be jarring." Charlies cried, as worry stirred in her heart. She grabbed Arlyml by his weak ankles, got one leg up onto the table's edge and with the grace of an ape wearing a dress, she ripped the middle aged man from between dimensions. The sound of the feat was an awful lot like the hem of a very expensive gift ripping in two. At the end it gave a little send off that could have been mistaken as a mahogany chair being crushed under the ass of a boulder.

From Arlyml's point of view he watched as everything slowly at first, grew smaller and then without warning all at once, it became a blur stretched out ahead of him until it was drawn ever so thin that it snapped. Where upon Arlyml was stuck upon the face by the thread of the world and sent flying through the void where he was deposited rudely upon his study floor. His trousers ripped about his ankles and the splinters of his favorite chair digging their edges into his back.

[strixramus]

30min Anthology #8

Acklin Ormanson did not care for tradition. Especially the kinds that demanded others trap themselves in the past, ignoring the future and the changes it brought with it. More specifically, he did not care for the traditions his father's family held. He was not going to let his apathy ruin their funeral service however.

He wore their thick funeral hides delivered to his doorstep, despite how they choked his skin. More so now as he entered the heat of the smithy. The flames of the forges danced shadows across the workshop. Silhouettes of men drawing out lengths of iron, hammers held overhead before striking down with a thunderous twang. Each of them one by one falling still, turning towards the doors as Acklin disturbed their work. Acklin watched as their faces darkened, their brows pinched into disapproving v's. Acklin knew very little of his father's family and none knew of the man who had sired him. But there was not a soul in the Hollow that did not recognize the clothes of a Dirgemouth. The truth of the occupation was long forgotten, nowadays everyone associated the title with funeral leaders. His father's family were in the business of funerals, but to many of those in the Hollow, including Acklin, that meant something different.

Acklin continued through the door, the silence of the room drawing the foreman from his office. Acklin's body tensed as the lumbering man wandered into the room. Confused by the silence. His eyes wandered from the faces of each of his sons as he assessed the room with a cool severity. "Acklin?" the man's voice bellowed in the silence. Acklin froze for a moment, realizing after nearly a year, he had not paid much mind to those in the smithy. His foreman Braum dwarfed his sons, Lyel, Wex and Drual. Each of them a slightly smaller version of the original. "Only Sonz men wear ritual garb." Braum continued.

Acklin tensed still not used to the prying, as some were so intent on when it came to him and his story. "Aye sir, that they do." Acklin replied shifting uncomfortably in his clothes. All their faces pulled into various expressions of shock or disgust. Braum only frowned and Acklin wondered if he had just lost his job. "The ceremony is after work hours sir, I will not let this delay -" His words were cut short as Braum clapped him on the shoulder. The force was hard enough it knocked him into the sidewall as Braum pulled him into an uncomfortably soggy side hug. "I am not worried for your work lad." Braum said, tightening the embrace before letting him go. "Just do not let the seas gobble you up. You're my finest apprentice and I could not afford to lose you." He punctuated the near compliment with a heavy slap to Acklins back which Acklin was sure could leave a sizable bruise. Braum's sons just sneered and returned to their work as Acklin swallowed his pain and gave his best look of appreciation. Which only made Braum chuckle as Acklins face looked more pained from that effort than that of the rough housing. Then Acklin frowned a brief glimpse of concern in his dull eyes. "You alright sir?" Acklin nearly whispered. Braum looked dumbfounded before he realized he had lost his cool severity to his thoughts. Small fears wormed in his guts as he considered Acklin's position. "I am all cheery lad." Braum smiled but it was fake and despite Acklin's inexperience with others, Braum could see the recognition on the boy's face.

"Look-" Braum sighed "Just be careful." He clapped Acklin on the shoulder again, squeezing it more gently now. "Whoever you lost." Braums eyes hardened, filled with an intense emotion Acklin could not place. "Whoever they are to you, or whoever they were to the Hollow." Braum squeezed harder now. "They are not worth losing yourself." Acklin was at a loss for words. Even his body had no response. He stared wordlessly for too long and Braum was forced to fill the silence. "Right, sorry." He let go of Acklin's shoulder and put some distance between them. Acklin shook free from his paralyzation and could not help but find Braum's concern a little heart warming. He felt his body flush and as fast as the thought came, there it went and he was hot on its trail. He shot Braum a nod and barely squeaked out a grunt as he turned wordlessly and made for his station. Braum watched as the awkwardness filled the workshop and he wished he had just let the young man go about his business like he had the last eleven months.

[strixramus]

30min Anthology #7

Jojo Reileth loved the festivals that were held to honor the spirit of great fortune. He had since he was a very small boy, still able to ride his fathers shoulders for years to come. And he did, every festival night, so he never missed the electrifying display.

Tonight was like every year before, minus riding on his fathers shoulders. Jojo had grown out of such childish things and for his father's sake he had grown enough to no longer need the extra few feet. He could look out over the crowds and see the swaths of folks big and small. Every year it grew and Jojo could remember when the town courtyard could hold them all. Now they spilled out into the neighboring streets. Found perches on buildings or crowded the sidewalks. Everyone of them eager for the show.

Jojo wondered how many were return guests, how many truly came to honor the spirit of the Grimdale festival, and how many simply wanted to put old rumors to bed. In the last three years one other thing was not as it was all those years ago. He was reminded of it from their growing whispers. "There is no fortune in Grimdale." "There never was, never has been." "The town is dying out, of course they'd spin fables."

Jojo's whole body raged at their words, surprising himself. He only wished they had seen what he had as a little boy. Skies filled with puffy grey clouds, illuminated by the thunderous blue flashes as a great bird tore through the sky. Drawing trails through the growing storm clouds, inviting the rains to feed the earth. The wonder of it all left a mark on his memory, like after images from a bright flash.

Jojo's words however meant very little to those who had never shared an experience with the fantastical. Another thing he had noticed as the years went by. The magic that permeated the world and all the little things in it, dulled. Fewer and fewer of the dalefolk brought stories of impossible things, wonderous and terrifying things. The sort of things he lived for as he impatiently awaited the next visit, begging and pleading with his papa to see the Skalds, just one more time. He'd milked those puppy dog eyes so much and yet no one had become desensitized to his charm.

Jojo could see it in the people however. Their slow desensitization to the wonders around them. He watched as the people gave up on finding the magic in their world and in turn the world was giving up on them.

[strixramus]

30min Anthology #6

In the Hollow the people were very poor. Poor of mind, poor of body and poor of spirit. Living in the depths of depravity had that effect on most thinking life. The soul could not bear the crushing weight of a life condemned to darkness, of being left with no other option. The hours in the darkness only briefly met with the light of the Lantern. A whisper of hope for those unbroken, but a taunt to those beaten down. A reminder of the warmth and cozy comforts their efforts bring as they fuel the engines that bring fire to the forges, water to the distant corners of every floor, and above all else move the lanterns light to bring about the days and nights.

See, the Insani were the labor of the Hollow. A force composed of all the city's filth and vulgarity. The scum that bubbled to the surface when the city got heated. Scooped out by her majesty's royal dogs and tossed into this prison. The darkest depths of humanity's greatest monarchy. Where problems were sent to die so the lavish could live without their imperfections.

To the Insani the Hollow is their home. Had been for the last seven great generations. Just enough time for the folks to forget just how they all wound up in the worst place under the earth. Enough time to accept the terrible lies they were fed, living off the refuse of those above. To find honor in quarrying stone and digging precious minerals from the deepest of bedrocks. All to pay for a single day's worth of warmth or, and not and, a night's meal.

Truth of the matter was no one could remember the days when life was lived outside the Hollow. Not simply within the other wards but above it all. Where nothing but endless sky loomed overhead. Where the sun was not powered by coal or steam but simply drew itself across the sky every day. The memories had washed away with those who found themselves cast out into the depths of darkness.

Nowadays there was only the Hollow and the floors above. Just above the darkness were the markets and houses of all the common folk within the Well. The ones responsible for the day to day convenience of others. The worker bees served their Queens people, but mostly her guard. Above them was the heart of the monarchy. A lush Garden, watched over by those given the privilege of living to aid nobility, and deemed necessary to tend the crops and orchards that fed thousands. Higher still was the Stacks, a collection of forges and shops packed with tools and those with deft little hands made responsible for all the metal work and maintenance the city could need. And as long as you minded the law and kept any opinions of the Queen free from your lips, you would never know the horrors of living in the Hollow. A fact the Queen has kept long buried, but how much longer can she go, before the city's walls burst from the coming generations. Room was hard to come by and the only place allowed to grow was far below the comforts of the lanterns glow.

[strixramus]

30min Anthology #5

Summer always arrived with the deafening cries of cicadas. An ear splitting symphony of mating calls. For the Oni these songs were alien. A drone of harsh sound that only cemented his fears. This certainly was not the home he knew. Worse yet, he had no memory of his arrival to this foreign land. What sort of world had no walls to surround you? To close you in and protect you. This place never seemed to end. From the golden sea that ebbs in the wind, to the towers of brick which drew long shadows. Where animals strode on their hind legs through streets filled with savory scents. Where they spoke words with sounds he couldn't understand and yet there was no mistaking it for barks.

He'd watched from afar, cautious of the strangeness of it all. It wasn't long before someone took notice. He wasn't hard to miss despite his size. A hairless, fleshy pink thing, squatting amongst fields of grain peering out with trepidatious awe. Two beady little blue eyes studying everyone that passed him by. Seemingly unaware how they all knew he was there. Up until one individual, a portly feline with silver fur striped with black that framed a set of sticking yellow eyes that flicked in his direction.

The Oni gapped as the man stomped towards him, one fist shaking through the air as the other rested on the length of worked iron tied to his hip. A senseless jumble of sounds pouring out of his mouth. Of which he could only understand their tone.

Fear.

[strixramus]

30min Anthology #4

The sounds of rain drowned out the ruckus of night life. Leaving the city of Dulbur awash in the static of old radios. Nestled at the heart of this downpour lie a young man. Huddled to the hearth of an old Inn, desperate for the warmth of its fire. His pockets a void now that he spent the last of his coin for a single room, for a single night behind its walls. All at the loss of any promise of food to fill his belly. A terrible beast, all snarls with nothing to bite. "Oi Lad?" called a woman's voice over the roar of starving muscles. Sheepishly the young man turned. He was met with the face of the innkeeper, an older woman, in the sense that she was older than he. Yet she was not an old lady. No wrinkles or stiff joints, otherwise it'd be impossible for her alone to run this old inn.

She had soft orange hair that curled on end rather sharply. It framed her face like the helm of some fancy knight. The kind you might see them wear at a celebration. Her eyes peered from her face like emerald daggers. They pierced through one's defenses and left them bare, exposed, like a mothers gaze. She smiled a sort of half smile, the kind used when someone saw something sad that they just had to fix.

"I don't need no ones pity." the boy hissed. Fists balled and teeth clenched. Everett was not interested in the kindness of others. He'd pay for all he could and turn away the handouts of those who looked down upon him. However he hadn't the strength to argue, nor the education really. He bit his tongue before he continued. Those piercing eyes staring at him were enough to chase off wolves. "Alright lad." she said finally and Everett realized he'd been holding his breath. His face beet red as he sucked in a breath, settling into the soft velvet of his seat. "If you want none of my pity." she said, her voice climbing as she turned back to the kitchen. "Then I guess I'll have to throw it out." Her voice seethed with an impish guile. Teasing him. "Tis a shame. It truly is, here I thought it was my finest work."

Everett caught a flash of emerald from over her shoulder as she paused for effect. Twisting the bowl of fine smelling spices and steeped meat as she mulled over satirical disappointment. He could not stop the snarl from his belly as she did so. The beast after all had a mind of its own and that mind had needs. She knew she had got him just from the rumble he made. She knew she had gotten through to him after her teasing and that was enough. Leaving the bowl on the nearest table she set down a neatly folded napkin and a little silver spoon. Esmerelda after all was a very busy woman and satisfied with the moment's interruption she pressed on, eager to finish her duties before the day's end. And she rejoiced as she did so, to the sounds of that small silver spoon clinking on her mothers fine china. Followed promptly by the blissful peace of the pitter pattering of rain, free from the cries of beasts.

[strixramus]

30min Anthology #3

Waves crashed on the opal sands. Of the beaches I've seen there were none quite like it. Killer on the eyes when the sun was high, but if you got the timing right, just before the last few moments of the sun's golden light. You could find the most beautiful sight. A shimmer of pinks and blues radiating under the glow of dying light. Thousands of little grains buzzed, full of life before the darkness snuffed them out. These shores are not my home, not of my home. It's almost been so long I've almost no memory from before. Before the sky burned and a terrible storm cut through the trees, kicking up autumn leaves and damp earth. When they descended from the stars, visitors come to whisk us odd creatures from our primitive lives. To display us in cases and find entertainment from our captivity. They never expected I could talk, let alone argue the sheer audacity of the experience. Debate them on its morality or legality from either side of law. Yet my own was more familiar to me. Still, I won that battle. Convinced aliens of the immensity of their crimes, despite their claims of my dying world. At least they were willing to understand. Made efforts to right their wrongs. In the end they never did lie. Found my small marble amidst the swell of a star in the after thought of its supernova. Rapidly expanding, gobbling up all matter in its wake. Of the billions of lives they could only manage enough for a plus one. They didn't know who they would save, simply left it to the automated systems calculating the most optimal course of action. In the end, whatever random calculations bore the design of my rescue. I am glad to have been given the chance. To see beyond my primitive world. To continue. I'm only saddened by the reality that I must go on, alone.

[strixramus]

30min Anthology #2

Traipsing through the forest and meadows near the edges of town always brought with it unforeseen adventures. After seventeen years however it was more seen than not. After my father moved back into Chesterfield my childhood became a fiction book. The stories of impossible things became ever possible. Giants and dragons weren't a fantasy, werewolves vampires ghouls and ghasts. If you've grown up in the big city you might enjoy the comforts of the Iron Cage, free from monsters, but outside, it is so much more alive.

My father Joseph moved us out to this fantastical hillside after my mother left us. I'd barely turned two and the thought of me and my future, a future raising a felborn, it was like a plague on her mind. So, she left. Left us knowing what I'd grow up to be, left my father with no explanation, to raise her monster. To this day I don't understand why he didn't leave me too. How he can look at my horns growing in, my tail sputtering with green fame, and still smile and laugh. A bellowing laugh where his whole body shares the experience and his head cranes to the sky as if to echo his feelings to the whole world.

I don't remember the city where we'd come from. Only the odds and ends my father kept when we fled. Comics of heroes fighting evils, killing monsters, saving princesses. Old family heirlooms wrapped in old newspapers. The headlines warned of a rising crisis. "The Fel King Strikes Again." "Monsters on the rise and why you should be worried." Old forgotten things like pictures of my father with my mom. Love letters he'd written in his youth. Her goodbye letter. A hastily written piece of work. Filled with so many sorrys she wore out the word's meaning. Seething with shame or fear the thought of mentioning me was hastily scratched out. Like writing it in pen bound her to me, tied her to care unending.

[strixramus]

30min Anthology #1

The rains in Kelmyro were always bitter. Pulling the filth from the air like natural oxygen scrubbers. Pa would spend hours recycling the weeks drinking water just to complain about his efforts going to waster "Twelve hours of evaporation! Twelve hours of cooling! It's like the water wants to taste of ash and oil. Like they've wed and won't part till death!" His Irish accent was always thickest when he got flustered. You might actually miss the fact that my father *Seamus* was Irish, if you ever had the pleasure to never hear one of his fits of rage. I never had that pleasure. My ears were all he had left.

His husband if you must know, yes my *Other* father died almost six months back. Six months exactly once tomorrow's cycle begins. He was off on some other ship repairing faulty work, work that killed their last engineer. The Problem should have remained their own, but the bills had to be paid. Rations of air and water won't buy themselves and without plant life it certainly won't grow on any tree.

In the end I was grateful in a sense, that they had the time to grow old together. Nearly 100 years actually. I'm not clear on how old they were before their marriage, but when they finally made up their minds about me, they were thirty seven and forty five, Seamus the elder of them. They spent every day with me. Flying to distant nebulas to have picnics before supernovas. Fleeing the horizons of collapsing wormholes. Watching the universe blink out one lonely star at a time. The good, the bad and the ugly. Life is just a jumble of ones and zeros, but they made the best out of the binary. Showed me some of the best binary I've ever seen.

When Seamus lost Colin it was like I took in a son. Humans were never meant to live for so long, dragging the years out like they'd been caught in a blackhole, time spaghettifying out behind them. His days were like heart wrenching dramas and I couldn't look away. He'd wake to the preprogrammed sounds they'd chosen together. The sounds of rain. He'd check the vitals of his companion's pod as he had done thirty five thousand four hundred and four times before.

Thirty five thousand four hundred and five. "Happy ninety seventh anniversary aboard the Alice, Seamus."