Harper Kingsley

Into the drowny deep they’d gone, far past the places other men had dared to travel. Past arching cities and seemingly endless green jungle, they’d set sail from the farthest edge of the Last Isle of Men, intent on seeing all the world had to offer.

They reached the edge of the world after two years of sailing. As the sun was setting, they finally reached the place where the world ended and the curving blackness of space began.

They traveled along the invisible barrier until they found the Door. Then they left the world behind and traveled the multiverse, experiencing things they’d only ever dreamed of seeing.

Title: Ishmael
Author: Harper Kingsley
Genre: murder mystery, suspense, different era
Characters: Major Ishmael Dupres, Captain Etienne Barnard

“I don’t know how my life got to this point. It must be some phobia of success.”

Looking at the words printed on the paper, Ishmael wasn’t sure what to think. He looked from the words to his lieutenant, then back down at the words again.

“And this was written on the body?” he asked. He was relieved his voice didn’t shake.

“Carved into the flesh.” Captain Barnard’s voice never shook. He was the steady firmament that upheld Ishmael’s command.

“That is most disquieting,” Ishmael said. “How many victims has it been? 10? 12?”

“10, sir. And he’s been getting creative with his knife. It’s a frightening turn of events. Women are scared to walk the streets alone as of late.” Barnard frowned. “The merchants are upset. It’s costing them quite a bit of business that most shopping is ending so early.”

“Ah,” Ishmael said. He stared down at the paper, the words written in an oddly elegant scrawl. “We’re going to catch you, you bastard.”

“We’ll get him for you, sir. I promise,” Barnard said.

Ishmael nodded. “I know you will. You are remarkably skilled at your job, and your squad are the best on the street. Get your kids out there and find this guy. I will reward each and every one of you.”

“Sir, you know that’s not necessary.” There was a tinge of pink high on Barnard’s cheeks. It was an oddly charming sight.

“I know I don’t have to make the offer,” Ishmael said, “but I have quite a large amount of money at my disposal. I would feel better using it to reward a job well done than on simple pleasures.”

“Still sir, you’re … Read the rest “Ishmael”

Prompt-Fill: 016. hand 2A

It was gone. Only a stump remained at the end of his wrist. They’d amputated his hand.

Tears gathered in his eyes. He’d trusted them when they said they wouldn’t do anything without his permission, yet they’d drugged him and cut off his hand. The betrayal stung even in the face of his loss.

The door began opening. He hurriedly wiped his eyes dry on the pillowcase and the shoulder of the hospital gown he wore.

By the time the nurse came in, he had a stoic expression on his face. She didn’t mention the redness of his eyes, simply gave him a smile and asked him how he was feeling.

“I’m feeling like they chopped off my hand,” he snarled, then bit his lip, instantly contrite. “I’m sorry. It’s not your fault.”

She gave him a sympathetic look. “From what I understand, it’s not your fault either. A decision had to be made or you would have died.”

“I know.” He avoided looking at the bandaged stump. He looked toward the window instead. “It’s sunny out there. All those days of rain, and now it’s sunny.”

The nurse—PAM, said her nametag—moved around the room. She opened things and shut things, checked readings on the machines and changed the IV so quickly and expertly he wouldn’t have noticed if he wasn’t watching.

“It’s a beautiful day,” she said. She crumpled up a blue paper cloth and tossed it in the garbage can. “I think I’m going to recommend that you get some time outside today.”

“What?” He gestured with his hand at his stump. “They cut off my hand yesterday.”

“That was yesterday,” she said. “This is today. And while the stump is still tender and I wouldn’t jostle it around, it should … Read the rest “Prompt-Fill: 016. hand 2A”

There is a kind of “Cabin In the Woods”-type horror scenario happening in “American Dad” S12E07: “Ninety North, Zero West”.

They fail to stop the Santa archtype from returning the Titan’s eyes, and the Endbringer wakes up.

In its weakened state, angry!Steve runs into it with the train, popping its eyes out of its head. But if he hadn’t done that …

“What is even happening?” He struggled to pull his right glove on, wishing once again that he’d ordered those new uniforms. But this is what he had – something leftover from ’02 and smelling just a bit dingy – and he’d make the best of it. He always did.

“I don’t know, Dad. They’re just telling us all to get out of town.” Ashley wore her uniform and looked so much like her old self that it ached, but he could tell by the uncertainty in her voice that she was still scrambled eggs.

“We’ll help with the evacuation, but we’ll keep moving toward the [exit] points,” he decided. She had no place being in a fire fight, and she wasn’t leaving his side. So he’d just have to stick clear of whatever disaster was rocking the town. “Grab our Go Bags. We leave in fifteen minutes.”

Evan strode down the short hallway to his favorite bathroom and locked himself inside. He was trembling and sweating and he didn’t know why.

Except she’d been dead. There’d been a funeral. She’d been out of his life for so long that he was beginning to get over her loss. The pain had never left, but he’d been putting his life back together. Then she was back again.

He’d been through an emotional yoyo-fucking. Like he’d been strapped down and the Safe Word was unpronouncable and the fear was … Read the rest “Thinking things; Excerpt of The Flameburst masturbating”

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