The Most Constant Constant.
I returned from the book binders, many years ago, with my thesis clutched to my chest. Arms crossed protectively over its now hard back. Green fabric covers that sleeve four years of my research and my life. A single copy and I would at long last be Doctor. And yet, within these pages still lurks a hidden pain for which I have never since found a cure.
Even today this pain pursues me. We can now instantly and indelibly publish our words to every corner of the globe, and with them we broadcast this torment.
In the long years that followed, I have never once opened this thesis. I cannot face this suffering. No matter how hard we scour our words, this agony will pounce in the moment I glance at any page.
The most constant constant in the universe.
A single, undisguised, obvious but undetected typo.
Dammit.
The Refectory Of The Damned
It’s midnight. The only sound was the occasional clink of cutlery against white porcelain. I could only thank God that no soothing but anonymous music played over this scene. Silence was our salvation. We each ate immersed in this silence. Large round tables that could seat eight filled the hall from wall to wall. Bu…
How the bats found some rest.
The tree at the centre of the world sung with life, day and night. The collective chorus of every new species became a cacophony that the serpent came quickly to despise. It disturbed his waking hours, it disturbed his sleep and he had plans to make.