At Marc’s house, Cathlin was sorting through a pile of mail. Jilli was playing with her bear and a doll at the other end of the table, and Marc was chopping carrots.
“There’s one here for you,” Cathlin said, and pushed it across the table to Wilom. Continue reading
Wilom adjusted his sleeves. The shirt was new and stiff, and he regretted that his others were all in the wash. Continue reading
As Wilom walked over to the woman on the bank, he listed facts about her as quickly as possible, trying to notice as much as possible, to practice. Nervous, he could tell. Hanged, judging by the dark mark on her neck. He’d seen enough of them. But there was something different about her. She seemed restless, and she definitely hadn’t been waiting in a jail cell for days before her execution. Continue reading
The ferryman, for once, didn’t row them directly to the bank, but instead took them over towards the lighthouse. Wilom realised that the lighthouse keeper was waiting for them on the bank, holding something. Continue reading
Whimsy and Metaphor 