Chronicle 7: Black Out

Rage was like burning fires, ransacking the plentiful streets of Timbuktu. The faces of the citizens were so severely marred by scowling...

Chronicle 4: Black Jack

Lycan continued wailing. The air of his breath and the sound of his voice drifted like a foggy film across the Downtown Philadelphia...

Chronicle 1: His Black Word

The most beautiful aspect of hindsight is that we only remember what matters. It was hard to forget the sound of bells jingling in the...