Gallade's Story Archive

 I sat, looking over the streets of London, my feet dangling off the edge of the clock face. "Quite the view, huh?" The voice startled me, and I turned to see her walking over, and taking a seat next to me. "Mm. I really love how you can see the Thames from here. The crystal-clear water just dances in the daylight," I answered. "What brings you here, then?" She took a seat beside me, and we both looked over the bustling modern landscape. "Well... I've been thinking a lot about my place, you see. Where I belong in the world." "And you think you belong in London?" "No, no," I laughed, "London is merely the... image, if you will, of the possibilities of the world. So many winding streets, so many curious citizens, so many nooks and crannies. Why, to be born here would be to have all these mysteries represent home." "But, London isn't your home. What's so special about it?" She gestured to the cle...

 The rain drummed in rhythm against the window of the flat. The details are rather lost as I wonder what to put to paper. The image of the man and his companion drum carefully through the streets of London in a hansom, as I dream up facts and fiction of a case as it unfolds. The truth lost, the matter of cost, the reality of how it's solved. And all while the carriage rattles along, and I wonder. As the puzzle formed in my head, I stood from my chair and found myself on the street. A very familiar street. I walked along the path until I came across a door, just past a diner, with a number upon it I recognized. As Big Ben chimed in the distance, I ascended the 17 steps to a strange little flat with two windows and a hearth. I glanced around. Unusual objects colored the room in the personality of those who occupied it. A Persian slipper with tobacco, a chemistry set well-used, the days paper, portraits of certain war-bound idols. I took a seat and waited with patience. I had a ca...