Emerson Lighthouse's blog

The Dunsany Brick

“Can anyone see the bottom?” asked Emerson as he held the lantern over the edge of the pit which was once the floor of the Gangplank’s cellar.
 
“I don’t see anything at all.” said Junie waving away the dust that still filled the air.
 

A Brief Letter to H G Wells

Dear Mr. Wells,

Coffee at The Gangplank

What a great morning. Could it be any more perfect? thought Emerson Lighthouse as he took a long slow drag on the day’s first cigar. He was sitting at the bar in The Gangplank with a fresh mug of bitter black coffee and the daily paper. The Oiling Festival had just ended and he was reading a review detailing all the fantastic builds in and around the city.

The End

Dawn broke upon the mighty city of Kital illuminating what appeared to be a killing field. Bodies littered the ground from one end of the square to the other; both islanders and queen’s guard alike, hundreds of them, motionless, as the sun rose above the horizon. On the outskirts of the field lay Emerson Lighthouse and Junie Ginsburg, perhaps entwined in one final embrace.

The Amazons

“First they will cleanse him in preparation for the sacrifice.” said their new acquaintance, the Queen’s Guard whose name they were to learn was Sir Benjamin Lovett, son of Mumford.

“Evil!” cried Gadget. “It’s not enough to kill ‘im, they ‘asta torcher ‘im first. Poor Mister Brother.”