Gallade's Story Archive

                It’s a simple fact of my life. Wherever I go, whatever I do, and whoever I meet, I am always decorated and gowned in my wedding dress. No, to my misfortune, I have never really been married, but it is a dream of mine to be. With any person I meet, with any life I experience, I am always wearing my wedding dress.                 It comes in many colors, you see. Ones to fit the season, especially dim and comfortable colors so as not to upstage brides at their weddings, or chameleon colors so it is not seen completely. On good nights when others are at center stage, I keep the wedding dress muted so as not to steal the scene.                 But I am always wearing my wedding dress.                 As you m...

                 I don’t know what to make of my interaction with him. I don’t know how to feel, after everything that has happened.               When you lean out of your tower window, handkerchief in hand, waving it out to cry the usual “Help me, someone, please rescue me!” and some handsome hero finally works up the courage to cross the lava moat, leap the great chasm, challenge the dragon, and march the thousand steps to your room, every story ever told says that should be happily ever after.               Every story ever told says then everything should be fine.               They don’t tell you what to do if you wind up not being compatible. If your expectations don’t line up, and he’s too worried about continuously being your hero, but you’re ju...

  We came across the beast almost by accident. We’d been staying in a hotel in the Tampa Bay area following the conclusion of the immediate previous investigation, and I was browsing my phone on my bed while Hugh was up compiling his notes by the desk. As we were going about our business, right around five in the morning, the power started flickering. First just the once, but soon twice, a third time, with more and more frequency until it settled into almost a rhythm. Hugh slammed down his papers in annoyance. “I certainly hope they haven’t decided to start tinkering with the electricity at this hour,” he huffed and slid his papers neatly into a folder, and that folder into his bag. “They’re probably dealing with the same faultiness, and others have probably already started complaining,” I offered. “Well, they’re about to get one, if they aren’t,” he got up, throwing his bag over his shoulder, and went out. I hastily slipped my shoes on and followed suit, deciding the si...

I can’t remember how I got here. I definitely remember the amusement park, arriving at the gate. That’s for sure. I got my ticket, and I had it torn, before going inside. I came here with someone— Robin, I think. Though he also brought that one girl, Lillian, who always snaps at me for like, no reason? Weirdo. God, I feel dizzy. What did we do next? I walked the park, I must have, though I.. I can’t remember much of what happened outside the attractions, really. I can remember the entrance, that’s fine. I remember the funhouse was on the other side of the park, clear as day. And it looked fun. And in the center of it… Well, I remember the Ferris Wheel, anyhow. It had a gorgeous view of the marshlands. I just wish I’d looked out the other side to the city. Was I able to? I can’t remember… did it have a window? It must’ve, because the carriages had windows next to the door. I must’ve forgotten to look. It’s probably a photo on my phone— Shame, too. I wanted to see what my home ...

              I thought it was paradise. I really did. When I first wandered towards the strange scene, it looked to me to be lush with fruits, trees, and homes I could stay in. And to the credit of the place, that visage never broke, not even once I saw what was underneath.             I had come to stay there because of a handful of creatures which had chosen to become my friends. A peculiar grasshopper that was as tall as I was. A dryad with pink-and-white patterns all down their body, like a cherry blossom tree. Even the forest itself was run by a timid and affectionate, if a bit invasive, spirit of a troll that endeavored to behave like a human child.             But the real caretaker, and also the source of my trouble, was the old man who had dug himself out a residence in these hundred-acre woods. He welcomed me, as the others did, ...

                 The click of the key in the shop’s door was as soothing as ever, and in that moment, Merrien felt the day finally cast its weight upon him. His broad shoulders and upright posture slumped into a willed wish for rest, his face tired from hours of smiling and pitching his various potions. But this is fine, as this would be the start of his favorite part of each day. Travelling upstairs, the boards creaking beneath his feet, each step gaining strength as he felt himself shifting moods, shifting his purpose for the night. Though he had the house to himself, it still felt like he could bother someone if he wasn’t careful. Reaching his loft, he pulled from the shelf a concoction most precious: A glimmering jar, sparkling with light. Within, little strips of paper floating, each eminating a separate color that glints majestically outward in the dim lantern-light. He began his ritual. First, he placed the jar on the si...