Eartha Sandos

“Waiting for the correct time to descend for cocktails, Mary sat on her bed and reviewed her impressions of the house party one by one. Belinda Choudhry M. P. she knew least. As mother of murdered Perdita, she was sure to be a volatile addition.”
― Susan Rowland, Murder on Family Grounds

“I walked past Malison, up Lower Main to Main and across the road. I didn’t need to look to know he was behind me. I entered Royal Wood, went a short way along a path and waited. It was cool and dim beneath the trees. When Malison entered the Wood, I continued eastward. 
I wanted to place his body in hallowed ground. He was born a Mearan. The least I could do was send him to Loric. The distance between us closed until he was on my heels. He chose to come, I told myself, as if that lessened the crime I planned. He chose what I have to offer.
We were almost to the cemetery before he asked where we were going. I answered with another question. “Do you like living in the High Lord’s kitchens?”
He, of course, replied, “No.”
“Well, we’re going to a better place.”
When we reached the edge of the Wood, I pushed aside a branch to see the Temple of Loric and Calec’s cottage. No smoke was coming from the chimney, and I assumed the old man was yet abed. His pony was grazing in the field of graves. The sun hid behind a bank of clouds.
Malison moved beside me. “It’s a graveyard.”
“Are you afraid of ghosts?” I asked.
“My father’s a ghost,” he whispered.
I asked if he wanted to learn how to throw a knife. He said, “Yes,” as I knew he would.  He untucked his shirt, withdrew the knife he had stolen and gave it to me. It was a thick-bladed, single-edged knife, better suited for dicing celery than slitting a young throat. But it would serve my purpose. That I also knew. I’d spent all night projecting how the morning would unfold and, except for indulging in the tea, it had happened as I had imagined. 
Damut kissed her son farewell. Malison followed me of his own free will. Without fear, he placed the instrument of his death into my hand. We were at the appointed place, at the appointed time. The stolen knife was warm from the heat of his body. I had only to use it. Yet I hesitated, and again prayed for Sythene to show me a different path.
“Aren’t you going to show me?” Malison prompted, as if to echo my prayer.”
― K. Ritz, Sheever's Journal, Diary of a Poison Master

“Chuck skipped through the rest of the preamble to the actual examples
Spaceguard had chronicled:
“On March 23rd, 1989, an asteroid designated Asteroid 1989FC missed
hitting the Earth by six hours. This little jewel packed the energy of
roughly a thousand of the most powerful nuclear bombs, and the human
race became aware of it shortly after its closest approach. Had this celestial
baseball been only six hours later most of the population of the Earth
would have been eliminated with zero warning.”
“In October of 1990, an asteroid that would have been considered
very small, struck the Pacific Ocean. This little fellow only packed the
energy of a small atomic bomb, about the same as the one that flattened
Hiroshima, and if it had arrived a few hours later or earlier it could have
easily struck a city rather than making a relatively harmless splash into
the center of the ocean. Remember, relatively here, is just a comparative
term.”   ”
― Jody Summers, The Mayan Legacy

“Had I left some children behind somewhere in the world?”
― Edward Williams, Framed & Hunted: A True Story of Occult Persecution