Dear Diary,

I have a memory or a thought tugging at the back of my mind that won't let go, but I don't dare breathe a word of it. Afraid it might fade away like mist. I’ll need to go to Minos soon, but I have too many trips planned already. I still need to tell Charles about some of them.

There's been some strange things afoot here lately. Since I ( Read more... )

Scrawled in a loose hand on the pages of a maimed and singed oilcloth-wrapped journal. It's cover and page margins are scrawled over with doodles of kittens. Some of these are, unfortunately, pink.

Dear Diary,

I never once thought I'd see something to actually put The Apple's guns to shame. FOUR artillery shells in as many minutes, before the thing ( Read more... )