B. Morris Allen

B. Morris Allen

Stories of love and disaster
Beginnings 077 – Wyrm und Drang
Sure, I can breathe fire. It's surprising how seldom that comes in handy when you have to change into a two ton dragon to do...
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Beginnings 076 – Marshal Law, Ch. 11
Hanging is a terrible way to kill a man. When you hang a man, he jerks and sways and kicks like a dancing puppet. He...
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Beginnings 075 – Fetch
She had died from overheating. It was an unlikely death, in the star-spark darkness beyond the atmosphere, where the outside temperature measured in single digits....
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Beginnings 074 – To the Wild Sea
The tide seeped away, grey water into black sand. It left her lime-green boots uncovered, anomalous. Just as well, thought Sarosh, turning her back on...
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Beginnings 073 – Graven Image
It’s about impressions. First impressions, last impressions, the creased and corrugated impressions that life leaves on our skin as it wears us down to our...
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Beginnings 072 – Blush
I’ve been down in the heart of Wrinkletown, stood in the Blemish itself, with unmasked people as far as the eye can see. You get...
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Beginnings 071 – I Don’t Care About Clifton Clowers
They say, “Don’t go on Wolverton Mountain if you’re looking for a wife.” Old Claude says that, anyway, and he don’t have a wife, so...
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Beginnings 070 – Dragons I Have Slain
I collect dragon tears. It isn't difficult; they're insidious and subtle, and they seep through my armor and into my skin like ink, leaving me...
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