The Case of the Man of Ash: Chapter 6

I read over my own notes and looked at the evidence taken from Giuseppe’s house. I had a broken tablet of volcanic glass, a cylinder of smoke, a journal and a wicked sharp knife of unknown origin. Honestly, nothing here is of known origin, I thought.

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The Case of the Man of Ash: Chapter 5

I had spent a lot of my time investigating the disappearance of a man that held an interesting life, but I would not learn of his story until I dove into his journal. After all, it was all I had that was written in his own hand. I will admit it was difficult to read, as the man did not seem to write in the regular sense of English. Words were spelled phonetically and not accurately.

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The Case of the Man of Ash: Chapter 4

he depth I must have plunged could not be accurately described. I stood upon a precipice overlooking the endless void of space itself. Below me there was nothingness, and it spread in all directions except for the outcropping of unknown white rock I stood on. A whistling breeze tremored through the chasm and moaned in twisting, tortured tones.

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The Case of the Man of Ash: Chapter 3

I absentmindedly thumbed through the journal, noticing what looked to be a couple pages of simply random words. Not all of them were in English, many in a couple different languages. I recognized German, Latin, and Greek, but the scribbles did not make any sense to me. The strange wedge-shaped symbols clustered together down a page looked little more than geometric rubbish. However, even though I could not make it out as a written language, it must have been code or shorthand, for it had a clear pattern—maybe even the flow that many languages have.

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The Case of the Man of Ash: Chapter 2

It would be a few days before I would be able to start on Miss Curwen’s case. In the meantime, I needed to file the paperwork with the Portland Police Department in regards to a missing body I had been asked to look into. Turns out that the husband had come home from a deployment and found his wife with another man. This made things interesting when he killed her and then dropped the body into the Willamette River.

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The Case of the Man of Ash: Chapter 1

The frosted glass inset in the door read: Alexander Booth, Private Investigator. In this area, there were about three other detectives who worked in the private sector. I worked with the local police department off and on for jobs that they simply did not have the manpower for. Small jobs. Odd jobs. Little did I know that the oddest job was about to knock on my door. She was a dame with the straightest posture, positively the tallest woman I had ever seen.

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Of Munster and Men

“Last night Matilda took my axe and attacked the mirror! Smashed it to smithereens! Kept goin’ on about a critter in the mirror! I didn’t see it, but she swears up and down she’s seen it. Now she’s practically beside herself, because of all the critters in the woods around our house!”

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The Riddle of Amaryllion: Part 5. Matthew’s Epilogue

“So, um, was the emergency taken care of satisfactorily?” asked Kathleen. 
Matthew nodded, “Very satisfactorily, thank you. And I certainly hope that another one will not rise which will prevent you from seeing the rabbit’s name.”

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The Riddle of Amaryllion: Part 3. The Second Clue

“You know how in all those fairy tales when someone’s under a curse and asks someone to do something or not to do something, there’s a reason behind it. I’ll trust Elliot and the rabbit on this one and not speak a word about what color it is.”

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The Riddle of Amaryllion: Part 1. A Strange Deal

All of the women are gathering because the mayor’s son has a giant, invisible rabbit ravaging the town and the only way to get rid of it is if a woman can actually see the rabbit. So far, everyone who’s tried has failed…

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The Un-Hallowed Book

“It’s resurfaced,” Therese said.
“What has?” I inquired.
“The Codex Hyperborea.”
Beads of cold sweat formed on my brow. The Codex Hyperborea was possibly the oldest, rarest and most sought-after grimoire in existence. That knowledge should have never seen the light of day. 

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The Wizard and the Dragon

Katrina absently clicked her mouse, taking a sip of coffee while it opened. It contained only one sentence: “I know about Eardwulf.” The mug came crashing out of her hands, smashing on the linoleum. She shook uncontrollably…

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Twilight in Evermore

“I can’t wait to see what you want to show me!” Katrina said excitedly.
Eardwulf rumbled a chuckle. “Are you sure you can find the way? I could ride with you.”
“Wulf, you wouldn’t fit in my car.”
Katrina drove a Beetle. It was true, he wouldn’t fit. Katrina bounced out the back door and into the moonlight, turning her blonde hair silver.

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Caelan, Healer of Evermore

One morning, Caelan watched as Eardwulf welcomed the elf-friend Katrina down to their home. He liked Katrina, they all did, and she above all liked to listen to his lore. She was hungry to learn about Faerie and the ways of its people, and he was happy to have a student. Though it ignited a longing in his own heart…

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Katrina Down in Evermore

Katrina Lawson made her way down into the inner workings of the City of Evermore. Since she had been proclaimed an “elf-friend” and given a key that would let her pass any doorway into the hidden city, she had come down to them many times, in special pursuit of her friend Eardwulf.

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The Doll

“Stuff is getting moved around, going missing. Then there’s the pranks. Like there’s crayon drawings on the wall. Mom and Dad blamed my sister, but she claims her doll comes to life when we’re not looking and does stuff.”

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Eardwulf of Evermore

Eardwulf Ragnarson was considered very odd for an ogre. He was a capable warrior and a gifted axe fighter, but preferred the telling of tales and the singing of songs to battle. He loved the small creatures and was often seen in the company of elves. While the ogres as a people had been at peace with the elves for centuries, they still didn’t trust them, much less one of their own kind who liked them.

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Blessed And Sacred Are The Times Of Our Lives

Janice saw him there off in the distance as she sat in the food court at the mall all by herself. There her son was with her, that woman, that woman whose name she could not bring herself to say, not even to herself in her mind. This was her way of blocking out the past, never admitting that woman had ruined her life, never even admitting that woman ever existed. 

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The Christmas Witch

‘Twas the week after Christmas and all through the house, not a creature was stirring. That would be me, the sleeping creature. Everyone else was stirring. Anyway, the sound of my cell phone going to town interrupted my slumber.

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