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Our cruel Gentleswine, for so I have named him in my heart, has finished with the priest. The mind in that body, now still and gone between the pews, must have shared a history with him. But the indifference remains – no, even more than that – you could say that the dismissal was complete.

In which our heroine, ever so polite, but more than this, ever so dependent on the roofs of others, is clad in fashions most unsuited to her spirit… Though Millie still threw the occasional cautionary look over her shoulder, she distracted herself by sitting at her writing desk with Imago. Her attention was only aroused

Continued from the previous installment, Part V: The Chase (in which our heroine visits the Strange Physician) – “It’s him!” Dr. Millie Fethermann beamed like a child and pointed to the closed window. – “You only need to see him! Then you’ll understand!” Even to the Strange Physician, she must have, at that very moment,

In which our heroine receives an uninvited advance… The Hartsbinder Estate seemed even bleaker today. Daily custom had once been enough to varnish Millie’s longing with a surface of boredom and modest expectation. But there were also a few quiet sighs, breathed as one went about one’s day, which had, like a magic counter-cure, sufficed

You will recall, dear reader, one young Eureka, whom we left after Imago the raven had plucked out her eye. This is her story, or rather, how it begins…. Miss Eureka Deveraux went through life without a name until she was at least eight years old, or so run the rumours among the young men

Without the daily rotation of day and night I am unaware of how long, exactly, I have been in the belly of the whale.  With only the glaucous glow of phosphorescent seaweed to provide light, circadian cycles break down more quickly than you’d expect. Early on, I found an old crate and, for the period

The old Seashank Hotel always reeked of mold and seawater, creaking continuously as the wind changed, keeping everyone on edge.  A burnished bell and musty leather sign-in book kept her company at the front desk.  The paintings on the opposite wall shed a dour cast, her grandparents frowning and judging her with their dumb, unmoving

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