Graffito, interrupted. Flare end of scratch marks where the improvised chisel dropped, watchman’s shout scattering…

Fleeing birds mass the night. The spirals and veering are an audible gyre, passing overhead…

The medallion silvers in the Vestal’s hand, caught in a trickle of light. Music murmurs…

I love the deep end, said Lud. His blue eye gazed down to tap upon…

He retold the tale of his victory over Lady Nightmare. Gathering speed, he raced through…