Dakoa

The Bridgekeeper sat and waited, his feet pulled up under him, a blanket draped over his knees to help ward off the chilly mountain air. Across his lap lay a long knobbly staff, upon which he rested his wrinkled knuckles, the palms of his hands turned up as if in supplication. His eyes were closed, his breathing steady, and his aged heart beat almost coyly in his chest, his pulse inconceivably slow. The pose was one he’d adopted for decades, identical to that of his predecessor, and each that had come before. The groove he nestled into, the concave bowl of smooth rock, was testament to the diligent service of his kind, the scraping rob

Another day, another dollar, another customer screaming down the phone, another manager belittling and ridiculing, another soul-sucking consumption of his time upon this earth. The work day finally done, he fumbled in his pocket and unlocked the car, flung his stuff in the back seat, and eased himself behind the wheel. Turning his key in the ignition the engine started with a gentle thrum. Flicking it into reverse, he twisted to look over his shoulder and gripped hold of the passenger seat, easing the car slowly out of the parking space. Safely out, he switched the car into drive and moved off. His car was nothing special, just an old, reli

The Bridgekeeper sat and waited, his feet pulled up under him, a blanket draped over his knees to help ward off the chilly mountain air. Across his lap lay a long knobbly staff, upon which he rested his wrinkled knuckles, the palms of his hands turned up as if in supplication. His eyes were closed, his breathing steady, and his aged heart beat almost coyly in his chest, his pulse inconceivably slow. The pose was one he’d adopted for decades, identical to that of his predecessor, and each that had come before. The groove he nestled into, the concave bowl of smooth rock, was testament to the diligent service of his kind, the scraping rob

The forest teemed with movement. A hundred trees dipped and bobbed in the breeze, their leaf-heavy branches whistling and sighing as they swayed, the sun blazing through their canopy. A thousand mushrooms shone with morning dew, their caps glimmering like baubles on a Christmas tree. A carpet of ferns, grasses, and mosses, their numbers abundant beyond count, spread out across the forest floor, blanketing it in shades of green, yellow, and brown. Throughout the scene, an army of tiny, insectoid workers scurried to and fro, pollinating, feeding, and generally supporting the ecosystem. AdminBot GN24NIV, referred to simply as ‘Adam’

Her bicycle bounced and jumped as it traversed the bumpy and uneven surface of the dirt road, her feet walking calmly alongside it. When she was a little girl, she’d loved to ride her bike along the bumpy path, bobbing and jiggling on her seat with the jolts and jumps of the track. She used to laugh, her voice exploding out of her, causing further delight as it undulated and shook with the road. Now, she simply walked. The surface of the dirt track had deteriorated since she was a girl, and with no one to repair it the jolts and jumps had grown to the point where she was worried that over time they would shake her bike apart, or cause d

I can’t remember the last time I slept. A few minutes here or there, a jerk of my head, and that’s it. I’m back on my feet, I’m running again. It’s the sound. That’s what comes first, that’s what I hear, that’s what sends shivers down my spine, that’s what pushes me to my feet. That awful, scraping sound. Like branches scratching along a car door, clacking incessantly, striving to get in. I stand in a hurry, my heart racing, and I run. I used to be happy. I didn’t appreciate it at the time; I bitched and moaned about the little things, complaining when people talked at the cinema,

The sun had barely risen, and already Syun-Ro could see the approaching shape of Tohv’s boat, the bow bobbing gently as it cut through the water. To be returning at this early hour, the old man must have set off when the night was still thick and in full sway. He rose, padding his way along the jetty towards the incoming vessel, sleep still fresh in his eyes. Scratching his head, he reached the end of the wharf and readied a line. Tohv poled towards him, his thin frame perched at the back of his ancient craft, the boat obediently following the course laid out for it. The water was still, so guiding the vessel in was practically effortl

‘Stick to the path’. That’s what they always said. ‘Stick to the path’. Whenever anyone mentioned they would be crossing the Swallowing Forest it was only a matter of time until this mantra would be uttered. It was inevitable. ‘Stick to the path… if you want to make it to the other side.’ Sitting firm in the saddle, the sound of his horse’s hooves raining down upon the dry ground, the wind rushing through his hair, he thought of the superstitions of the commonfolk and tried not to laugh. The foolish and ill-educated would believe anything. Confronted with something they didn’t u

15,707 km. That is the distance between London and Jundah, Queensland, Australia. That was the distance between him, his family, and his former life. When he’d received the call all that time ago he’d been at work, eyeballs deep in code, chipping away at one colossal project after another. He’d answered only half paying attention, his mind still engrossed in programming script, his hands remaining on the keyboard as he cradled the phone against his shoulder. He’d not looked at the caller display, simply assumed the call was from his project manager, checking up on him, hindering his work more than helping, micro-man