Sins spread through generations. The sins of our forefathers haunt us to this day. The sins of our offspring bring shame to our graves. What was it all for when the children forsake their parents? What is it for when the parents neglect their children? Hate breeds hate, even through time. Pain brings only more pain. There must be care for the world. Firstmost, care for your kin, as often your kin is the closest of the world. Have respect for those who are dead, care for those who are alive.
Is it wrong to, in kindness, bring pain? To aid in folly? Self-destruction? Mayhaps. Is it folly in itself to cajole one out of harm’s way? Or to join?
Be wary of your actions. Do not bring unnecessary pain. Strive to do good.
Art of London
Letters from the Surface: Part XIV
By Sir Wensleydale of Hardwick
It was two weeks after that, when something new happened. I had been accustomed to prison life at this point, but I learned that one of the Cheery Man’s goons was in prison. Figures.
We met at mid-day to trade information. When I mentioned my adversary, the conversation took a turn for the worse.
“I am trying to steal a diamond. He thought this was out of spi-“
“Guess you should be glad you aren’t on Mr Fires’ bad side.”
“How do you know that?”
“If you were, you’d be dead. The Orphanage burned down two days ago.”
Watchful is increasing…
Shadowy has increased to 150- Shrouded in Shadows!
An Occurrence! Your “Letters From the Surface” Quality is now 14!
An Occurrence! Your “Remembering the Orphanage” Quality is now 1-Haunted by Flames!
Your “Counting the Days” Quality has gone!
by Rowley Ruskin
In this place that is two places, the sea embraces the sky. Beyond the gate you see the infinite night and feel the cold wind of the High Wilderness upon your face. The sky has opened to you.
You allow the Flukes to enter first. That is their right. Their tendrils are restless as they rise. The water crackles with heat. There is a song in the air. A song that threatens to burn. HOME. They sing their wordless chorus. HOME. Their voice shines brighter than the stars. HOME. And then, in a tone that can almost be described as gentle: OUR GRATITUDE.
You watch them disappear into the night. The Neath grows darker in their absence. Your crew breathes a collective sigh of relief as the energies of the Correspondence quiet. Their anxiety disappears with the Flukes. They do not understand.
“Captain.” Your navigator remains restless. “Consider the price.”
You look to the impossible vastness of the heavens, threatening to consume you whole. “A small price, all things considered.”
You give the signal. The sound of the engines is impossibly quiet after the Flukes’ song. Together, you take to the sky and claim your place among the starless nights.
News of Art, Art of News
An interview with a celebrated artist
It is my pleasure, dear readers, to present you with a wonderful and rare opportunity. It is so that our own humble Gazette was a guest of a great contemporary artist of London, one who has already written classics. We were blessed by their presence not only last week, as they have presented us with a story, but also today, as they agreed to a rare interview.
Ask Mother Goose
Dear Mother Goose,
I would love to meet again.
Meet me in the depths.