Pen of the Damned » Thomas Brown

“Is this love real?” she asks. Sitting on a bench near the other end of the room, her words are unmistakable, magnified by the reverence and strange acoustics of the museum. He turns from the...

https://penofthedamned.com/2016/11/08/scampi/

As tempestuous as the seas and equally unpredictable, Wrath sweeps through the skies, her shouts of hatred falling like shards of ice on those far below. Riding the storms and accompanied by a fl...

https://penofthedamned.com/2016/08/23/iron-trappings/

1 It was a dark night, full of clouds and shadows. Whispers carried on the wind, racing through the forest and brushing the trees. The monotonous chanting of a hundred voices lingered on the air....

https://penofthedamned.com/2016/06/07/the-abbey/

Lambing season arrives with fine rain and the moan of distressed ewes. John has just sat down to dinner when he hears them, the sheep’s cries mingling with the whistle of the kettle. He hasn’...

https://penofthedamned.com/2016/03/22/jerusalem/

I had been single for nine years when I met Spider. The sky was overcast. I smelled fried onions, heard the sizzle of hot oil from the kebab van by the side of the road as I made my way to the ...

https://penofthedamned.com/2016/01/05/human-prey/

They say the apocalypse is coming. In five years, they estimate, a meteor will strike the earth and wipe it clean of life. Five years is not a long time, but it is long enough. It is long enough ...

https://penofthedamned.com/2015/10/20/rush-hour/

Aislinn crawls under her covers, which feel cold against her skin, like her mother’s lips on wintry mornings when she kisses her goodbye for school. Goosebumps prickle her arms but she is not u...

https://penofthedamned.com/2015/08/04/the-faceless-brides/

The Number Forty-Nine lurches as it pulls away from the curb. Hydraulics hiss, and through the settling fog Max makes out brake lights, blinking indifferently in the drizzle. Teeth clenched, he g...

https://penofthedamned.com/2015/05/19/great-nyctaeus/

“I am a winged creature who is too rarely allowed to use its wings. Ecstasies do not occur often enough.” Anais Nin It has gone midnight when I cross the park but he is quite visible by the s...

https://penofthedamned.com/2015/03/03/monarch-man-2/

I The forest is starving. Overhead the sun dies, bathing the branches in the pink glow of dusk. Walkers do well to avoid these parts but John knows them like the lines of his own face. His trade ...

https://penofthedamned.com/2014/12/16/broken-banquet/