Song of Dead Suns
by Deranged Kitsune Poem by Darren Hall The sound echoed through the halls of the ship despite thick bulkhead construction. It was an almost whistling sound, not quite pipes and not quite birds. That it was music she had no doubt, for the pattern...
No Frills
The ursine squinted in the gloom of the hotel bar. He took off his dark glasses, clicking them closed and tucking them in an inner pocket of his black trenchcoat. Since it was a very cool spring in the city this year, not many would notice that he...