Erik and Rebecca stood at the bridge. The water moved below, carrying debris and struggling thrall.
“Of course the thrall fall in there,” Erik says as he steps forward.
“They are thrall, right,” he asked.
“So what’s your plan?” Erik asked Rebecca, as they sat waiting for the mob of thrall to surround them.
“First step is to not die.” Rebecca said.
“Honestly… and I always try to be honest,” Erik promised. “I’m good with dying. I’ve lived long enough. You wanna stab me and run, do it.”
“Liar!” Rebecca shouted. It was a whisper but emotional, triggered by memories.
Erik wiped sweat from his brow as the summer heat loomed over him. His hands trembled as he set the duffel down, though he didn’t need anything it. He released the pry-bar and let it fall the short distance to the ground. He shook off the anxiety, wishing he had a shot to medicate it away. His knees throbbed and he knelt.
Erik screamed out toward the thrall. He listened as the towering stems and pig weed broke under the incoming horde. The tentacled Groundling reached out, brushed his ankle. Erik turned, snapped a thick stalk from the ground.
No excerpt on file.
No excerpt on file.
Erik stood behind Sean Garrison. Sean— a large, broad-shouldered man whose very presence commanded attention. He wasn’t just a survivor; he was one-half of the infamous Garrison brothers, the outlaws of Black Lake.
For years, Erik watched from the streets as Sean and his brother terrorized the region. Often slipping past the Black Shirts and avoiding persecution, like it was a game.
They moved with reckless confidence, fearless and untouchable.
No excerpt on file.
No excerpt on file.
No excerpt on file.
“I have a talent. Talent is probably not the best way to describe this ability. Frankly, I create things from my imagination. I know… I know that sounds tame, pink elephants and cutesy things but I’ve always been a fearful person. That monster in your closet or the monster under the bed… Not things you want to have become real. I wish I could imagine pink elephants but they would probably trample me.”
Redd Church
“I don’t always imagine something big and weird. Sometimes it’s on a smaller scale if you want to call a couple of hundred plant monsters small-scale.”Redd Church
A second large piece of plywood crashed to the floor, the sound echoed through the small building like a gunshot. Cracks spidered out across the laminated glass. Some sections bowed inward, ready to collapse.
Log 05-10: Elmyra, Territory of the Reds
Elmira, where the boundaries between human and Kimerian blur, survival isn’t just about adapting — it’s about integrating. That’s the inspiration behind the Working the Line collection. Each shirt, mug, and print captures a snapshot of life along the Unknown Highway, where the ordinary and the uncanny converge.
He was everywhere — a brand mascot, political spokesman, soda icon, and holiday special host. Sometimes all at once. His face sold everything from cola to unity. His smile never changed. And when the signals went dark, Max kept broadcasting.
Before the chaos of MARS, before the Wrought, there was a single creature kneeling in a field of corn, planting a seed in sacred silence.
And a human who wanted nothing left to remember.
Napoleon had a small airport. Inside a small group of Kimerian giraffes practice to fly ancient planes.
The signal has been deployed. The broadcast is live.
No replies. Not yet.
This is the quiet between pulses. A dangerous place. A place where doubt leaks in.
Subject: Erik Ashford. Location: Abandoned retail sector. A Harrow designated “Gary” has breached basic restraint protocols. A child’s voice reported on site. Source unknown.
Case file BA-CR-0012. Dr. Gabriel Loren Cross. Charges: attempted augmentation of a living organism. Proceedings suspended — incident recorded.
Transmission recovered from Sector 9 monitoring. Source unconfirmed. No operative assigned. Filed under Temporal Anomalies pending review.
At approximately 02:07 local time, Subject Church experienced a migraine consistent with prior manifestation indicators. Within seconds of onset, a Class-C cephalopod-type entity breached into the residence hallway adjacent to the master bathroom.
The manifestation followed a maritime visual episode reported by Subject Church immediately prior to physical breach.
At approximately 19:30 local time, civilian Michael Wayne reported an altercation with his upstairs neighbor, Billy Robert Stokes. The dispute had been documented numerous times over several years and was initially treated as another routine domestic incident.
Upon entry into the residence, Mr. Stokes was observed standing in the hallway with his left leg bent at an unnatural angle. Despite exhibiting clear signs of fatal trauma, the subject remained mobile and unresponsive to verbal commands