Curveball

The Abyss Gazes Back: Part Four

Submitted by C B Wright on
Nautilus Conference Room, Later

David Bernard sits alone in the conference room, trying to focus on the pitch-black sphere floating before him.

masHEuDH

The sphere wobbles and dips in place. The surface ripples, bulges on one side, then rights itself.

masHEuDH

The sphere dips again, then begins to drift away from him, leaving trails of black wispy smoke in its wake.

YoU mUSt frEe mE masHEuDH, YoU mUSt usE ME

The Abyss Gazes Back: Part Three

Submitted by C B Wright on
South Bronx, Morrisania

Special Agent Philip Henry has a reputation for coolness under fire. This reputation has sometimes been described in semi-flattering terms, like when one of his superiors compared him to Joe Friday from the old Dragnet radio programs. Sometimes the description is less flattering, like when one of his colleagues accused him of being a soulless, cold-hearted son of a bitch.

At the moment his reputation is being tested. As Sergeant Alishia Webb glowers at him from across the table of the sole booth in Elliot’s Diner, he fights back the urge to flinch away from her gaze.

The Abyss Gazes Back: Part Two

Submitted by C B Wright on
Reunion

The silver-shrouded man hangs in the air, suspended by a power that existed before time.

Granite walls and floors gleam dully in the soft light filling the otherwise empty room. The light doesn’t come from the room, but from the power: the circle that surrounds him, the symbols inscribed within the circle, all glowing with enough strength to reach the very end of the long room, to reveal the door—plain, almost shabby compared to the room—that sits, closed, at the far end.

What is this place? How did I get here?

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