Illustrating her argument about fan fiction on the last post, Mairibheag pointed to a “sketch” of a story she posted earlier this year. Here it is, enjoy her unique, poignant style and intriguing ideas!
Agent Delta lifted the crime scene tapes and stepped into the cordoned-off area, turning up the collar of his dark grey suit to an insistent, cold wind. Somehow the large, sliding doors of the disused warehouse were funneling it, as though it had been whistled up for the occasion. Something was rattling or slapping arrythmically, irritatingly, against an iron rail. Odd pieces of litter were bouncing and tumbling through the space, looking for a way out at the other side; most trapped themselves against the far wall and fluttered, reminding Delta of the death-twitches of a Great Hawkmoon Moth.
Death. That’s why the tall, gaunt, lank-haired man with the grey suit and black turtle-neck was there. “There’s been a death,” they had told him. “The ‘locals’ don’t know what to make of it. Go and sort it out.” And indeed, in the middle of the empty, wind-bothered space there was…
View original post 1,680 more words