The People in the Photograph

I walked past a picture of Paris on the sidewalk this morning. Old superstition says photographs steal the soul. Utterly ludicrous, of course. Photographs don't steal souls. They merely copy them. Ah, I can hear you scoffing. But the photograph copies everything else, doesn't it? You think I am just a mad old man, don't... Continue Reading →

In a Glass Darkly

They watch it on the monitors: grey against grey, shadow against shadow. And the more they watch, the more they cannot agree. "Like a bird," says the first man. "A bird with a plume made of smoke." "No, no," mutters the second man. "Like a hooded man. A hunched, thin man, his legs like matchsticks... Continue Reading →

Where They Keep Madness

Rain pattered against the roof, echoing through labyrinthine halls. The candle in Jennifer's hand drizzled slow cascades of wax as its flickering flame cast shadows upon the doors. The Professor stood by her side, wearing a somber suit. His eyes were black and darting. "This is the deepest part of the asylum," he said. "This... Continue Reading →


Sometimes, Bob thought that he might be able to feel at home if it wasn't for the insects. They crawled over every surface, hid in every corner. In the middle of the night he could hear them scurrying through the walls, across the floor, across the ceiling. Tiny legs in the dark. He'd tried pesticides.... Continue Reading →

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