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Skittering

Can you hear me? Excellent. Now, it is an oft fascinating, and oft horrifying , fact that somewhere between that which we call reality, and the places Beyond, are beings of many natures not normally perceptible to our five senses. Amongst the most repulsive of these denizens are the skittering, crawling, clicking, buzzing things that exist mostly in some close Beyond realm (an empty, dusty, place of ancient cement walls, rusted steel beams and brown-stained linoleum floors). These creatures, which have as many names as they do forms, we shall call the Skitterers. So close to our perceptional abilities are these Skitterers that they are often heard, felt, and even seen . A repulsive crawler, often the size of cats, with a myriad of feelers, graspers, claws, hooks, rubbery suckers; fleshy, soft, slimy pulsating bodies and shiny chitinous carapaces; buzzing, clicking, whistling; crawling on every surface a person has touched. And their favourite sustenance? Skin flakes and oils, discarde...
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A Sword of Stars

There is a sword wrought of blackness; an alloy of meteoric iron, of the cold heart of a long-dead star that once gave light to a thousand civilisations, and the endless Void of Space itself. Wrought, yes, and by mortal hands in service to a woman that is more than a mere God. Its edges are blunt; nonetheless, an aura surrounds the blade, formed not of visible light, but the light of ghosts. Upon its hilt is a name, etched not by acids, but by substances able to rift the Void itself, so that the name appears the same to denizens of all realities, regardless of the nature of their eyes. It is the name of Eternity. Given to her by her lover, Time, to protect her as she wanders the Void. A blade to cut stars if need be so that once Eternity has reached her end, she can return to Time in safety. The two will then collapse onto each other and make love, as the last stars dwindle away to darkness, forever.
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First Testament of Hector

There are alive today only a few souls that recall when Atlantis herself sank beneath the frosted waves of the ocean. Of those few, even less of us remember the True Name of that place. I shall not utter it, even exclusively in the mighty company of the others, even less would I put it to paper. Surprised? For what is a name but a name, you say? In my long existence, I have seen the death of many cities (for want of a better term, since modern humanity lacks the words to express how much more than a mere settlement these holy places were to their citizens). When Sodom and Gomorrah were taken by the Black Glass (a most evil apparatus), I was there. I witnessed the horrifying slowness of people, outside the Glass gaze itself, turning to salt, and I heard the sounds bones make as the marrow inside transmogrifies (and the ghastly cries of those cursed with being alive as this happens). When Babel fell to the ear-bursting screams of the infidels it housed, I was there. I bore witness to th...
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