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Weekly Contest #372
I’ve been thinking, recently, about H.P. Lovecraft. It’s been a long while since I’ve last read one of his works, but a quote of his comes to mind sometimes – infrequently, but frequently enough to where I’ve come to expect it: it’s the one about the “placid island of ignorance”. You know the one. I think I agree with it, mostly, with the provision that it – and by extension, most of his work – is colored deeply by his habits and his habitat. Until late-on in his life, Lovecraft was a shut-in, and the majority of his experience with the outs...
Weekly Contest #357
Even with the quiet of the evening rolling in and camp set for the night, Roku’s chelicerae rubbed together irritably; he couldn’t get comfortable. Every few seconds, he would reach over and give the fire a righteous jab before settling back into his seat. Then, he would glance at his company – still trussed, still unconscious. Back to the fire. The bounty hunter wasn’t the type to let his guard down, but he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this… edgy. A stiff breeze passed, sending a shiver down his spine. He looked back. Still tie...
There was a strange thing. Ohg Shyll, even in his relatively brief and shallow travelings, had seen a great many things that the layman might consider to be strange: the astronomical phenomena of Olympus Borealis were surely strange, as were its inhabitants; the Holoborea was strange as well, all made of crystal and the trickery of light as it were; and the Hexed, venerable though they be, could just as easily fit into that nebulous category strange. They all were, however, well within expected parameters – none strayed so far from the repor...
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