D. J. Reddall
Bio
I write because my time is limited and my imagination is not.
Achievements (19)
Stories (911)
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The Fletcher. Runner-Up in Mismatch Challenge.
There wasn't any work that day, so I was perfecting my foot dangling when the ugly kid knocked. He does that quite often, especially because he has such trouble telling the bloody doors in the inn apart. The candle's lit, mind you, where that ugly kid is concerned, but the light is dim.
By D. J. Reddallabout a month ago in Fiction
Summoned
Caves have an odd smell: mineral, fungal, traces of the feces of bats and the slow rot of silent, blind fish in dark, subterranean pools. I have heard the young men of the village mock each other by sniffing an exhalation and declaring: "Cave breath!" as though it were a mortal insult, some potent hex. I know what they mean, now. Imagine that the petrichor, the rich and pungent cologne that rain dapples soil with, became concentrated, corrupted, and was breathed into the mouth of someone who will never, fully exhale.
By D. J. Reddall2 months ago in Fiction
