Wednesday, February 6, 2013

The Many Misadventures of Master Mystery: Murderous Mohrgs from the Moors

Research was slow going that night. But, Reginald mused, research was rarely wont to be done in haste. For Master Mystery, the act of researching was rarely each sure but more of the cleansing ritual that he happily partook in whenever he got the chance. Now that there were actual lives on the line, he could enjoy his research all the more, as the fax that he would discover could be used to help others, while also earning him a hefty profit.
Having retired to the Pink Swan just as the sun set, Reginald had ordered room service to his private suite and unloaded is a briefcase of books and scrolls, intent on discovering what exactly could be attacking these people in such a horrible manner. After all not many creatures of the night still roamed the streets of England in this day and age. 
Well… Not many creatures of supernatural means perhaps.

Tuesday, February 5, 2013

Fighting a Losing War

And then… nothingness. No bright light or eternal flames, no smiling faces of long-forgotten loved ones or weighing of my heart against my sins. Merely… nothing.
And not nothing like any other nothing I had ever encountered before in recent memory either, but a true and utter lack of anything. Including time, it would seem.

Sunday, February 3, 2013

Son of a Preacher Man: Hunter, part Five

Jack groans as he slowly rouses back into consciousness, glaring about the darkened room in search of something new to focus on. The room is fairly devoid of anything worth studying, save for a long table of instruments obviously designed for torture, as well as another prisoner hanging from the rafters by a set of verdigris ridden chains. The man, if you could even call him that even more, seems devoid of intellect, with glazed over eyes and no visible reactions to Jack’s questions throughout the day.