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  • The Music of Dusk

    Night wraps its violet ‘round winter’s pale day With echo and shadow and absence of light. There’s a shape in the darkness, a flutter of gray And you shiver and ...

    • Poetry
    • Narrative
    1 min read
  • heart of the rat

    A/N: I have no idea what to categorize this as. It was written to accompany photographs inside a handmade book. I almost put it in short stories, but nothing happens, ...

    • Other
    7 min read


For a short space of time I remained at the window watching the pallid lightnings that played above Mont Blanc and listening to the rushing of the Arve, which pursued its noise way beneath. The same lulling sounds acted as a lullaby to my too keen sensations; when I placed my head upon my pillow, sleep crept over me; I felt it as it came and blessed the giver of oblivion.
— Mary Shelley, Frankenstein