• Close up of burning wood
    Stories,  Write

    The Oath of Dag Seerson – Short Story

    Dag sat in a feasting hall, but by the sight and sound of those around him, it would be easy to believe the great space had been cleared for the aftermath of battle to tend to the wounded. Faces stared back with patched eyes or sunken pits where the orb had been plucked out long ago. Flat, broken noses. Cauliflower ears. Scars warped the skin. Hands missing digits. Arms missing hands. Bodies missing limbs. Those who had a body still intact sat bowed, frail and weak, like Dag’s own. He’d never recovered from the breathing sickness which had struck home nearly seven years ago. Now he could only sip the…

  • picture of a crescent moon
    Stories,  Write

    The Weaver – Short Story

    ‘The Weaver is blind tonight,’ my father said. My father rarely told stories. But there is another reason why this telling has been burned and committed to my memory. He looked old that night. Almost as ancient and weathered as my grandfather, his father, who lie in the bed he hovered over. The profile of their faces mirrored the other, as would mine. At ten, I too bore my father’s features but my mother’s dark hair and grey eyes also marked me as hers. Father’s large hand rested on the grey, sweat-stained brow of my grandfather. He slept in a feverish stupor, muttering in a language I couldn’t comprehend. Did a…