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Catching another’s memories was never easy for the Scottish Mage, infused as they were with the sender’s regrets, losses, small joys, and resentments both petty and deeply-held; he didn’t like to get too involved in the spiritual, not-to-mention mundane human world. Continue reading
Carrots. Original public domain image from Wikimedia Commons
That final set of runes he’d carved over the plaque was a long shot, at best. He’d pleased the three weird sisters — their pause their tell – but his freedom would not go unpunished. But what was he now? Continue reading
Carrots. Original public domain image from Wikimedia Commons
Prohibition had ended in early 1933. The speakeasy had already expanded its offerings to other delights not quite legal. Whisky, with her solid head and an iron heart for business, still used the Scotsman’s interdimensional tunnel to transport and store these goods and services. Continue reading
Hugo, as a young one, as seen by Kittelson
Hugo was unhappy. He’d been left in the tree swing too long. The swing, his favorite, hung from a branch of the biggest Douglas fir on Heffinger Mountain. A snack, a nap, a swing in the sack, and he’d be a happy boy all day. Continue reading
The sun was a memory, the road a straight line swallowed by an empty horizon. This relic of a rental was so old, the radio was one speaker, with five buttons and a dial to select AM stations. Too late even for radio ministry, too early for the farm report; Continue reading
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