BY THE POPESFOOT

“And there are rebels in the palace” Nelah had screamed at the Dulcate, her adopted father, as he was exiling her from her home and family. And precisely when she knew that they needed her most. Her face flashed crimson, embarrassed at the torrent of emotions that had spilled out of her in that moment, that torrent that stole away a powerful goodbye. She could still see Crowned Prince Mehmel, head shorn because he was not yet a man and needed whatever wisdom the great sour

Firelight grew dim, its flames flickered anemically letting off little warmth. Ezra shivered and damned the weak embers that seemed as cold as Jasher’s body, as his heartbeat raced away, chasing after shallow breaths in the suffocating darkness. He tortured himself with regret - Why hadn’t I just listened to Jasher, Ezra wondered, bemoaning the foregone zeal that spirited him down to the pit of hell in which he languished. “We could have felt sunlight’s embrace by now, and th

Rasha felt like he was wandering into death’s embrace, the increasingly dank air pressing heavily on his lungs. Faced with uncertain darkness, the stories monks shared about the monastery’s subterranean depths flooded his mind and came to life in his imagination. The monks traded stories and legends like currency at the monastery, and the taboo tales about the monastery’s subterranean corridors were the most valuable. In exchange for a week’s worth of transcribing, one broth

“I do not know your sins against the gods, but surely they wouldn’t condone your destruction amid this torrent,” the older man exhaled through gritted teeth as he strained to help Sufjan out of the obsidian sarcophagus. “You have my thanks,” the younger man said meekly as he struggled to regain possession of himself. As he studied the room from behind the cramped mask he wore, he tried to take everything in and staggered, dizzily, from the overpowering light. “Slow blinks, sl

“I was quite the baby when we said goodbye,” Robin whispered reverently, as he considered the man lying in the coffin behind his own bleary eyes. You could set your calendar by him, Robin thought to himself, as he remembered Tim’s monthly visits to Robin’s family. Even still, Robin scarcely recognized the man whose formerly tanned skin now lacked all of its characteristic warmth. He needs his sunglasses. He needs his sunglasses, Robin thought with a small smile. That man had

Joyce Irene Barber was a beautiful, vibrant, funny, and caring woman – and she remained such even as she suffered from faltering health...