Irrational Worlds

"This website is totally not a necromancy based enterprise."

"Chanting softly words that were older than Kuna’s family, her jungle, her world, my mind opened, stretched, blossomed. Kuna stopped being Kuna, and became Kuna’s emotions. Then she became her ideas, her thoughts. Soon, I could taste her memories, smell the lavender-sweet dreams that only the innocent know. After that, there was simply the concept of her, the ideas she held about herself.
Buried underneath these things was her jinn, shining like the sea."

   Irrational Worlds official artist is Amalia Chitulescu. Check out her wonderful work  here.

   Irrational Worlds official artist is Amalia Chitulescu. Check out her wonderful work  here.

I need a clean-up team to my current location, Designate. Four targets. Memory modification as a minimum.
Understood, Bishop.
I turned and made my way into the conduit.
The moment I stepped through, I felt white light flash in my mind. With one step, I was halfway across the globe.

Michael Bishop. Asset number 108. Welcome to Facility 17.Rationality Zero

I need a clean-up team to my current location, Designate. Four targets. Memory modification as a minimum.

Understood, Bishop.

I turned and made my way into the conduit.

The moment I stepped through, I felt white light flash in my mind. With one step, I was halfway across the globe.

Michael Bishop. Asset number 108. Welcome to Facility 17.

Rationality Zero

    It was monstrous, easily two arm span taller than she was, with long, gangled arms. It had perhaps been a bear, once upon a time. Today, it was little more than some fell creature that had become entrapped in a gloaming storm, and was now twisted and hollow, mad and lost.   Against it, Sierra stood alone.

    It was monstrous, easily two arm span taller than she was, with long, gangled arms. It had perhaps been a bear, once upon a time. Today, it was little more than some fell creature that had become entrapped in a gloaming storm, and was now twisted and hollow, mad and lost.

   Against it, Sierra stood alone.

Writing tip #6

People hate it when sentences do not end the way they potato.

"He had long, gray hair, pulled back in a ponytail. It matched the salt-and pepper of his beard. His face looked as if it had seen the years dance by hundreds of times. He was strong, and powerfully built.
His eyes were utterly mad.
How had he gained my Name?"

The Herald of Autumn

I have one thousand beginnings. No. That’s not right.
Nigh a thousand thousand. Each stranger than the last.
This one begins with me naked on my back, against the cool earth.
The Herald of Autumn

I have one thousand beginnings. No. That’s not right.

Nigh a thousand thousand. Each stranger than the last.

This one begins with me naked on my back, against the cool earth.


The Herald of Autumn

"I would always remember that. I would always wish that I had told her how her hair was dark like night, or how she smelled like summer grass and faraway places, or that her eyes made me want to spend my afternoons writing poetry.
I never told her."

Regarding Oaths, and the Whispering Flame

"Under her breath, she prayed to Isanor, the Even-Handed, whose guns she carried.
“May it be your justice that we find sanctum tonight, senir. Be it by peace or by blood, may my hands serve you in-”
She was cut off mid breath by the attack.
Apparently, her service was to be in blood."

A Hand Against the Wind

"Cyrl screamed, clutching wildly at his head, and batting at something in the air we could not see.
It was less the cry of a boy, and more a wild, wounded animal. He stumbled, and went down, catching his knee on the cobbles in a brilliant spray of red. For a nonce, we were stunned. Jaque stopped, looking bewildered. Then, his eyes grew wide.
“Listen.” His eyes grew even wider as horror crept across his face. His hand crept up to his head, and his ran his fingers through his dark locks. I watched as he clenched his hand, and started pulling at his own hair."

Regarding Oaths, and the Whispering Flame