“I never abandon myself to anything.”

That was the warning he had given her the first time that they made love and for almost a year now he had kept that promise. Yet she had abandoned herself to him almost from the moment they met. For two years she had loved him in silence; had longed for him from afar. She had been his ally, his associate, and at times, she flattered herself, they had almost been friends. But he had never seen her true feelings. She had taken great pains to hide them; afraid she would lose him forever if he were to find out.

It had been by mistake that they had come together. He had been handling his brother Diogenes’ estate. Allotting the last of it to various causes. After his brother had died at his hands, Aloysius Pendergast had sworn he would have nothing to do with the...   read more »

Pendergast’s POV


He was sitting in the back of an ambulance when I arrived, covered in blood and for his sake I hoped some of it was his own. An EMT was holding a stethoscope to his chest and checking his blood pressure. He sat there patiently, staring off into space, his dark sunglasses perched on top his curly black hair. He hadn’t noticed me yet and I took the opportunity to just watch him.

At the beginning of the day, I was sure Halo Spencer’s shirt had been white but now, as it was nearing 6pm, his shirt had turned crimson in places and pinkish in others with the blood that covered him. His faded jeans and Converse sneakers were blood stained as well, nearly caked in the...   read more »

Somewhere on the small, rock-strewn island of Capraria, in a small cottage by the sea, the blazing colors of the setting sun painted a series of shifting, weaving patterns on the white stuccoed walls of the bedroom in which reclined a heavy-lidded Aloysius Pendergast. The fragrance of a lightly-scented lotus blossom perfume mixed maddeningly with the heavier scents of the sea outside carried in through the open French doors by way of a cooling breeze that found its way into the ordinarily stifling room.

Aloysius lay naked on the bed. His now lightly sun-kissed body was noticeably leaner from his recent prison sojourn but still heavily muscled and fit for any kind of action. The pale blonde hair on his chest moved rhythmically with his breathing; he lay with hands lighlty folded across his taut belly one leg slightly raised at the knee.

Thoughts of former loves whirled slowly through his mind:...   read more »

Maria Almadovar-Gonzalvez finished drying the wine glass and hung it upside down in the wood wine rack over the large center island. It was a beautiful kitchen; white and black marble tiled floor, genuine maple cabinets along two walls topped with a dark granite countertop. Elegant chrome fixtures gleamed under the subdued lighting over the sink, and the stainless steel refrigerator and freezer reflected the same light in dull, hazy patterns.

Maria pressed her lips into a thin line as she regarded the spotless kitchen. The Señor, he would be pleased. Too bad she was giving her notice tonight. Her employer was an unusual man, but not unkind, always asking after her family. He didn’t seem to have any of his own, and Maria, a child of fruitful parents, thought he might be lonely. She straightened her back and raised her chin. He would have to find another maid with...   read more »

There was a point during his convalescence in his brother’s questionable care, shortly after he’d come to realize in some sort of vague sense where he was and what was going on, when he woke to the feeling of careful hands on his left foot. He’d spent so long consumed by fever dreams and night terrors it was a moment before he was certain that he wasn’t sleeping. Eyelids barely open, he gazed down towards his feet. Diogenes was crouched there, slowly running his fingers along Pendergast’s insole, lips moving silently.

When they were younger, before Diogenes’ illness—for Pendergast still called it such in his mind, even though he now knew it had been something else entirely—he had allowed this frequently. Diogenes had been a student of anatomy even then, and had found his brother’s pale, nearly translucent skin a fascinating source of study. Pendergast, for his part, had been something...   read more »

He stared down at his bed and smiled, brushing the fingertips of one hand over his lips. His brother lay on his stomach, nude and pale against the dark backdrop of his bedsheets, and looked up at him demurely through his eyelashes. Diogenes laughed shrilly and then sighed. “What a surprise.”

A flush rose on Aloysius’ face, but he said nothing. Diogenes stepped forward, loosening his tie and stripping off the suit jacket he’d worn to school. “Home for the weekend? Do Mother and Father know you’re here?”

“Yes,” Aloysius said softly as Diogenes knelt and used his necktie to bind his brother’s wrists in an intricate knot.

“You like to take risks, don’t you? Big brother?” He held his brother’s chin and tilted his head up, forcing him to make eye contact. Aloysius said nothing, and Diogenes leaned forward to for a brief, light kiss before standing again. “Won’t this be fun?”...   read more »

He is running.

It is fall in Virginia. The sun is just rising, throwing a warm glow over the dusky grey of early morning, highlighting the red and gold of the dying leaves on the trees and the spindly forms of the branches that have already been laid bare. Among the thicker clusters of trees that lead into the denser forests, a thin layer of dry leaves rests gently atop those that have been compacted and partially decomposed by rain, and forms an ankle-deep carpet through which the green of the summer grass occasionally peeks. Rain from the previous night has created the occasional hazardous mud puddle, and moisture soaks the hard-packed dirt trail, making finding traction and balance a conscious exercise.

He runs past a tree that has been defiled by a myriad of simply stenciled signs; he has seen them so many times that their bold, simple messages no longer...   read more »

He sips his green tea
Long fingers grasping the cup
He sighs, world weary

He sees his bonsai
Needs trimming before he leaves
He’s glad of this chore

He grabs his scissors
Poised to trim the bonsai branch
He snips and pauses

He’s imagining
Incitatus sitting there
Under the bonsai

Putting down the shears
He picks up the bonsai and
Throws it at the wall...   read more »