by Teodor Reljic Unidentified journal fragment, found off the coast of North Carolina, 22 November, 1718. Rattling cages; the place is about to explode from the noise and I feel my body: naked and grimy from this animal hole. Captain Blackbeard is dead. I can feel it in the Navy’s sneers and jeers: they descend

by Noel Tanti I am terrified of the open sea.  I can think of few situations that make me feel so exposed and vulnerable; that gargantuan mass of water pregnant with an unseen universe, simply unnerves me.  Surely, the reason behind this (sometimes) irrational fear stems from a nasty childhood episode that is cosily repressed

by Joshua M. Reynolds The shore was cold in the morning, and the sea was loud. The sun drizzled down through the ever-present wall of clouds that hugged the English coastline, glancing off the dark water. Just the way Otto Felton liked things for his morning jog. He was a thick man, in waist and

What does one think when asked what they think lurks within the depths of the world’s oceans? From a typical Schlock reader, one would assume mentions of the likes of sea serpents, gigantic man eating sharks, merfolk. Octopi of immense scale, lovingly dragging divers to their lairs. Squid of similarly colossal sizes, locked in combat

Jim Smythe was busy playing skipper on the catamaran he had mysteriously acquired for his companions, while Hercules Gray and Diotallevi were busy poring over maps of the surrounding seabed. Their destination was around eight kilometres off the St. Julian’s coast, at a site where in 1999 supposedly man made structures were found on the

In which our feathered companion is dubbed by any other name as sweet… Mr. Grenwald – descended from a long line of loyal stablefolk belonging to the Hartsbinder Estate – would have bet his idiot son and his young wife that even Great Great Grandfather Grenwald hadn’t suffered such obstinate airs and graces. It was

The raven felt a dull pain – not unlike a chill – which found its way into the insulated spaces between his feathers, though perhaps the source lay further beneath the pimpled pinky-grey skin. His guess was vague and hazy, like moving water; he was loved, though he had never been taught how to use

Continued from the previous installment, Part V: The Chase (in which our heroine follows the Strange Physician through London town and loses her feathered companion) A deft turn and a flick. A silent flourish and a toss, but with no dramatic intent. The Strange Physician had closed the door and thrown off his lendings. Curiosity,

What made the strange physician easy to track was his lack of interest in fellow human beings. Of late his immediate vicinity had taken on the look of a sea already parted – the torrent of force in his step drove its way through a crowd with effortless authority, while any path he chose became

On the other side of the grimy windows, the darkness was punctuated by occasional flashes of villages passing in a glow of orange lamplight. James and Nick had occupied the back seat, falling asleep under a woollen blanket they had bought at a market back in Ankara. James, the lighter sleeper, jerked awake at intervals,