The Machine Of Wester Moorley (§.05)

§.05 Albrecht was confident the statue he spied through the window of the school was that which rested in his coat pocket. He strode up the porch and tried the handle. Unlocked. Drawn by curiosity the man pressed within and looked around with slight trepidation. The school, Albrecht surmised, had formerly been a saloon, for… Continue reading The Machine Of Wester Moorley (§.05)

The Machine Of Wester Moorley (§.04)

§.04 Otto went to fill up his rusty autowagon for the drive out to the nowheres, leaving Albrecht by his lonesome outside the dingy lifeless building that served as the townhall. While he waited for Otto, Albrecht thought he might stretch his legs and have a look around town and turned of its porch of… Continue reading The Machine Of Wester Moorley (§.04)

The Machine Of Wester Moorley (§.03)

§.03 Matthias Emery Thall raised his arms in salutations as Albrecht walked through the doors of his study. "My good sir, at last you have arrived. I am Matthias Thall. Please, take a seat." "Your hospitality is much appreciated, Mayor Thall." "Oh, please, call me Matt." "If you prefer." "Otto—why didn't you pick Mr. Brandt… Continue reading The Machine Of Wester Moorley (§.03)

The Machine of Wester Moorley (§.02)

§.02 Albrecht shoveled the jam-and-butter-slathered bread into his mouth as Otto consulted a small glass of whiskey. Otto sipped and gestured to the jellied-roll on the engineer's plate. "You're lucky. We're nearly at the last of it." "Of the bread you mean?" Otto nodded and held up the glass, swirling the amber liquid. "Bread and… Continue reading The Machine of Wester Moorley (§.02)

The Machine of Wester Moorley (§.01)

§.01 The barton of Nilreb sat upon a dry, razored plain, encircled by high and jagged mountains of reddish-beige stone that looked from afar like the fangs of some ancient and gargantuan beast. Only one road let in from the outer world to that wasted space and upon it, a lone man strode, a thin… Continue reading The Machine of Wester Moorley (§.01)

Wicked Road

I recently re-discovered this, the very first short story I ever wrote (many, many years ago), and decided to publish it here. It is somewhat amateur, but I hope you will find it amusing. ◊ ♦ “Jet lag, mon ami?” Chester North did not recognize the jovial, drawling voice which had so suddenly pierced the… Continue reading Wicked Road