Christopher B. Wright's Blog

Anchor and Shadow

Matthew sits in the empty chair, settling into the tall back and allowing some of how own tension to ease. “Your house is… different.”

Simon nods. “Our first creation. In many ways our greatest, though we weren’t entirely aware of what we’d created or what the consequences of creating it would be.”

“Consequences?” Matthew asks.

“The manor house is not entirely any one thing...

Don’t be alarmed. I’m just testing something on my site. It’s a very complicated test of “will I see this post or not?”

Will I?

We’ll see.

UPDATE: I did not see the post. FAIL.

The Great Hall

Matthew sighs in relief. “I do need to talk to him,” he admits. “To both of you. I don’t understand everything that happened in that tower, but I’m convinced that the Manor is in—”

He breaks off, eyes wide.

“—danger…”

Something about the room has been tickling in the back of his brain from the second he stepped through the door. The feeling was pushed aside by Abel’s music, but now it’s back, and the reason is suddenly obvious. Matthew stares through the only door ...

Today I turn 54 years old. I’m relatively pleased that the numbers keep going up, because that means I’m still moving forward. On the other hand, there’s not much chance of 54 being the new 30, and I think I’ve still got a ways to go before I qualify for senior discounts, and I’m really far behind on my writing so when I get up I’m gonna take a moment to appreciate my one balloon (pictured), brew a pot of coffee, and get to work.

The Guest Room

Matthew is almost awake, almost aware of the faint, pleasant smell of fireplace smoke. A log pops in the fire and he stirs, nearly conscious, but ultimately he turns and sinks deeper into his pillow. He draws his clean, warm blankets up so only his head is exposed to the uneven warmth of the room. He is almost asleep again, nearly returned to pleasant dreams of crisp, cold air and soft...

Surrounded by Shadow

Matthew sinks to the ground, grabbing the arm of the bench just in time to keep from cracking his knees against the brick path. He is no longer drowning in that terrifying endless well of cold and darkness, but he can’t stop shivering. He turns himself over to sit, back propped against the bench, and discovers to his surprise that his left leg is bleeding. It’s bleeding a lot.

ELON MUSK (WITH FAN CLUB): So if you’re not here to serve me a subpoena, who exactly is this message from?

ADALAI FOULE: Azathoth.

ELON MUSK (WITH FAN CLUB): Azathoth? Cthulhu mythos Azathoth?

ADALAI FOULE: The same.

ELON MUSK (WITH FAN CLUB): The blind, mad god that sits at the center of the cosmos, the source of ultimate chaos, who thrashes about uncontrollably in its s...

ELON MUSK (WITH FAN CLUB): Look, I usually do all my social interaction through X. It’s social media, after all. But you’re here, I’m here, so what the heck. What did you want to tell me?

ADALAI FOULE: My client has instructed me to deliver a message.

ELON MUSK (WITH FAN CLUB): It’s not a subpoena, is it? I’m kind of immune to them now.

ADALAI FOULE: … thereis no such thing ...

ADALAI FOULE: I assume I have the pleasure of speaking to Elon Musk.

ELON MUSK (WITH FAN CLUB): Who are you, exactly?

ADALAI FOULE: I am Doctor Adalai Foule, D.D.S., at your service.

ELON MUSK (WITH FAN CLUB): … a dentist?

ALEX: He’s a specialist. He’s done some work for Ubersoft in the past.

ELON MUSK (WITH FAN CLUB): Doing what? Pulling teeth?

ADALAI FOULE: It can...

ALEX: What are you doing here?

ADALAI FOULE: Ah, Alex. I trust you’re doing well.

ALEX: Are you here to see the Boss? I haven’t seen much of him lately.

ADALAI FOULE: No, actually, I’m here to see your sister. I’m hoping she can put me in contact with one “Elon Musk.”

ALEX: … Musk?

ADALAI FOULE: Yes, well, I understand Ubersoft has done some work for him lately, and tr...