Books author - "Aaron Redfern"
At the top of an elaborate temple tower a mile up in the sky, a man has waited for four centuries. He watches for an unknown threat from the south, but it has never come...and he begins to doubt. Four Hundred Years in the Sky is a spin-off of my duology, The Long Way and The Forgotten Way. If you like this story, be sure to check them out.
Carver was a creature of the night. Often on frosty, corpse-chilled midnights like this, when few people dared to walk in the open and brave the primal resurrections of their childhood fears, he felt a thrum of pride from high in his gut, from that same place where people felt the screeching nails of terror pulsing up with every sound out of the brush, because he knew that there was nothing really in the shadows that was dangerous as him.
I remember her best as a brightness: a splash of amber against the rain, wet and blurred, her hair pulled up in the imagined style of a dead people. It always rains on Papho, drip-mists and drobbles taking turns like gentle rocking waves, a pulse that becomes a way of life, rising in crescendo to the terror of the summer monsoons. They say that the new natives have a hundred different words for rain, but the truth is simply that they have many ways of expressing what they feel.
When you're a brilliant detective who solves a new murder every week, at some point you have to wonder: where does all that murder come from? Maybe you're better off not knowing. This story is an entry into the Let's Solve a Mystery Challenge. It focuses on Eddie Reynolds, who is called to solve the crime of the dead newlyweds, but other characters from the list appear as well.
At the top of an elaborate temple tower a mile up in the sky, a man has waited for four centuries. He watches for an unknown threat from the south, but it has never come...and he begins to doubt. Four Hundred Years in the Sky is a spin-off of my duology, The Long Way and The Forgotten Way. If you like this story, be sure to check them out.
Carver was a creature of the night. Often on frosty, corpse-chilled midnights like this, when few people dared to walk in the open and brave the primal resurrections of their childhood fears, he felt a thrum of pride from high in his gut, from that same place where people felt the screeching nails of terror pulsing up with every sound out of the brush, because he knew that there was nothing really in the shadows that was dangerous as him.
I remember her best as a brightness: a splash of amber against the rain, wet and blurred, her hair pulled up in the imagined style of a dead people. It always rains on Papho, drip-mists and drobbles taking turns like gentle rocking waves, a pulse that becomes a way of life, rising in crescendo to the terror of the summer monsoons. They say that the new natives have a hundred different words for rain, but the truth is simply that they have many ways of expressing what they feel.
When you're a brilliant detective who solves a new murder every week, at some point you have to wonder: where does all that murder come from? Maybe you're better off not knowing. This story is an entry into the Let's Solve a Mystery Challenge. It focuses on Eddie Reynolds, who is called to solve the crime of the dead newlyweds, but other characters from the list appear as well.