Category: Major Arcs

Assembly

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“Do you know where your father is?” Mrs. Plunderton asked.

“Out shopping,” Karessa replied automatically as she tied the laces of her boots. In truth, Karessa had not seen her father in four years. Nobody had. “You know how the Mish Mash is. You get all the best deals this time of day.”

“Doing anything after school?”

“Theater. I’ll be home late.”

“Oh, for the love of – are you still wasting your time there? Do you know where we’d be if your father and I wasted our childhoods playing pretend instead of working?”

Maybe not in the Mish Mash, Karessa almost said. Instead, she chose to endure her mother’s rant and try not to take it personality. It wasn’t easy. Never was. Continue reading “Assembly” →

Recursion, Part Two

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With four employees in the store at once, Odd & Ends quickly became overcrowded not merely in terms of space, but also in terms of work to be done. Sure, if the shop were busy Donovan could be managing the books while Karessa swept, Nestor helped a customer, and Linda restocked the displays. But the shop was never busy. Even three workers could often feel unnecessary.

So, for the first time since arriving in Skymoore, Donovan took an entire day off. He hardly knew what to do with himself. In the morning he walked about the city, casually familiarizing himself with it in a way he hadn’t yet had time to do properly. He discovered a library, an aquarium, and a place that sold something called “pizza,” all of which he made a note to check out when he had the time. Continue reading “Recursion, Part Two” →

Recursion, Part One

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Getting to Seamoore was never an easy task. It was near the western edge of the continent that is mostly called Penscarop, but which has been dubbed “Remainia” by many recent immigrants and their children. To get to it, you had to cross either the Frostlands, the O’grofkala mountains, or troll territory, depending on where you’re coming from, none of which is anyone’s idea of a good time. Continue reading “Recursion, Part One” →

Opening Day, Part Seven

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Donovan Allman hated Dillish wine, but he couldn’t deny its effects. It made him lively, happy, personable, in a way no other drink seemed to. He imagined for his new life as a shop keep, he’d have to get used to its rich, spicy taste.

When the time came, he theatrically downed one final glass, got up from his seat behind the counter, and made his way to the front door in long, dramatic strides. “Paz,” Donovan said, and the door threw itself open, and stayed that way. Lastly, he hung a sign that attached to the bottom of the chrysanthemums. It read, written in chalk: “Open.”

And they were. Continue reading “Opening Day, Part Seven” →