MrNepathy's Blog

“Atlanta,” she said as she hung up the phone. She said it in the same tone I imagine some captain had used to tell Robert E. Lee that Atlanta had fallen to Sherman: disgust peppered onto disbelief. The  single word held explanation, admission and defeat. It also birthed a slow, roiling chaos. (more…)

I woke up to the sound of fire engines racing on the street below my window. The heavy sound of the diesel working overtime, the scream of the distinctive siren, the blaring of the horn like a harbinger as if the first two noises weren’t enough. Through the haze of just-waking eyelids fluttering like the first flaps of a butterfly I saw the white and red flashing on my water-stained ceiling. (more…)

Breanne tipped her head down as she pressed her hand to the cafeteria door and pushed it open. Noise erupted all around her as the various cliques scattered towards their tables. Maybe it was her imagination, but everyone seemed to turn to her to check out the new girl. Time to pick a clique she thought to herself. She felt like a gazelle going for a drink of water only to find itself surrounded by lions, cheetahs, jackals and vultures. (more…)

“There was a time before the beginning of this. It was your first meaningful journey. The ceaseless rain had made the mountain pass almost impossible to traverse, but you and your would-be squire, Benton, pushed your horses to their limits once you were on more secure ground. You arrived at the gates of a city you had never been to. It was a city built around a pleasant hill, a hill that cast its morning shadow upon an even more pleasant lake. (more…)

Even within the confines of the shuttle’s passenger cabin, Haz’lrah Tun’law could hear the sound of loaders and transports scurrying through the hangar bay, readying the ships for war. The undecorated metal walls resonated from the ground shaking beneath the landing gear. The soft and constant hum had become a familiar sound to the Twi’lek, enough that he could almost tune it out. (more…)

Quaydo was growing impatient as he watched the Imperial captain look over the permit.

The Rodian wrapped his long fingers around his elbows as he crossed his arms.

This kept him from drumming the suction cups at his fingertips onto his belt and the pistols holstered there.

“Is there a problem Captain Reeves?” he said in his eerily soothing tones. (more…)

It was a blustery morning in the valley. The storm possessed two qualities beyond all others: wrath and patience. But the wind was far too impetuous rushed out to announce the storm’s impending arrival. Leaves, long dead and trampled since the start of autumn months prior, were kicked up into the air and tossed about in seemingly random swirls. (more…)

As the night stretched on, Thatus’s strength waned. When the world was at its darkest, his head slumped forward and his breathing grew more shallow. All the while Celia held onto his hand, sometimes lifting it to kiss the back. The warmth of her lips was usually enough to make his head lift again as he woke. He tried to tell her, and Dalen, that it was the fatigue of the journey and not his injuries that made his eyelids so heavy. The weakness of his voice and the dreary slur of his words showed the truth. (more…)

Pitok stood over Thatus who had just suffered a terrible blow and was now slumped against the wall of the keep. Blood marked the corners of his mouth and the front of his quilt armor. Just as the god of wagers was about to swing, he heard Celia’s prayer end. He tilted his right ear towards the sky, listening for a moment. When he turned back to Thatus, he sneered. The expression on his face was one of smug victory. (more…)

When the attack happened, it was swift and overwhelming. Just seconds after the first feet could be seen in the edges of the globes of light, the zombies were upon the defenders. The whistling sound of arrows was muted as the arrows struck flesh. The clear resonance of ringing steel was halted by the meaty sound of skin and muscle tearing. Hands and bone impacted against armor, leather and flesh. The ripping timbre was usually followed by a cry of pain or the hush of a voice suddenly and horribly silenced. (more…)