#VignetteSeries – The Pegasus Carriages

Author’s Note: Scenes in first draft from an upcoming work.

The flying things filled the sky like oversized bluebottles buzzing here, there and everywhere with a general disregard for their passengers safety. Dark ink stains on a dirty blotting paper sky, the Pegasus Carriages went about their business of human transportation with even less purpose than the insects they so resembled.

“They bother you, Mortimer?”

Headlock appeared not to hear his companion’s words, instead, his attention remained fixed upon London’s latest aerial business.

“Mortimer?”

When he spoke, it was with measured words.

“It is not the carriages per se, Grace. No, it is not them at all.”

“Then, what? To see a man whose business it is to instil unease in others having that same unease instilled in him is frankly unnerving.” Grace placed a canary-yellow glove upon Albion’s champion’s arm.

Headlock lowered dark eyes to the ground, then returned them to Grace’s flashing green own.

“It is those creatures that power them, Grace, those beasts they call automata. They are wrong, ungodly, devils dressed in suits of lead and I intend to prove it.

When Headlock moved away, Albion’s fogged gloom followed, a little more ice filling the space he’d vacated.

Miss Grace Grace was not a girl prone to chills, but she did; she did not relish the sensation.

#VignetteSeries – The Inventor

Author’s note: Robert Swift is a man ahead of his time, an inventor, recluse and opium addict. However, beneath the brilliance and despair, he is innocent. I think that makes him an interesting character to explore and I do so each day. His daughter, Luna, is something altogether more unusual, but I’ll leave that to your imaginations.

“Loneliness happened upon me in stages I’d care not to share, one counts the shades in black for madness comes in no other. I confuse the two, I see it in your eyes. No, my dear, I do not. Insanity and sorrow are not the same. For me, the two are inextricably linked. Once I’d outgrown my superiors, their response bitterness and shared resentments, I turned inward. I shunned all, welcomed night and hard work. How I worked! I expelled those of skin and bone in favour of something better, more solid. Namely, my dear, you.”

“But I am metal, father. I am not real.”

“You’re worth a hundred of any of them. You are perfect. You are complete. You are my child, Luna, and I couldn’t be prouder.”

#VignetteSeries – Angel

Author’s Note: This was the opening to a short story I wrote. In the end, however, I chose not to use it.

They effervesced. I can’t put it any other way. Her eyes didn’t just sparkle, they were alive with a million billion possibilities all positive, all a delight. She saw the good and never the bad, the light and never the dark. She radiated hope where there was none, her eyes glinting promises. Better than I deserved, she was everything a woman could’ve been and more. I called her my angel. Now, I’m hers.