There is a specific kind of quiet that only exists in a diner on a school night. It’s not a true silence; it’s a hum made of clinking silverware, the sizzle of a flat-top grill, and the rhythmic scratching of pencils against paper. In East Bay, that sound has a name: Mel’s. I am excited to announce that the latest installment of our journey, Chapter 009: “Homework at Mel’s,” is ready for release. For those who have been traveling with us Across the Portal in the jagged, unpredictable landscape of Skelderheim, this chapter might feel like a sharp turn. But Continue reading
A Skelderheim Book Series
Category: Charles
Entry #007 - The Merchant's Corridor I started weekly lessons at the Skelderheim library. It feels like sitting down in a good class for the first time. You show up with a vague idea of what you want to learn, and then someone who actually knows the subject hands you the right starting point. You leave with your head full, and you realize how much you did not know five minutes earlier. The Librarian agreed to teach me. He does not waste time. He shows up when he says he will, brings the right books, and speaks in plain terms. Continue reading
East Bay Date:December 24th, Christmas EveSkelderheim Charles had not realized how much he missed the sound of a fire until he could hear this one without thinking about generators, gauges, or what might be humming under his boots. The copper hood over Rell and Emera’s hearth caught the firelight and sent it into the common room. Someone had hung short bundles of dried green along the mantle. It was not pine, but it was close enough that he could pretend for a while. The place smelled like smoke, stew, and fresh bread. It was different from Mel’s on a winter Continue reading
I kept trying to write this one like one of Anna’s field reports and it kept breaking on me. Meals don’t fit into “conditions, actions, results.” They just happen, and then months later you still remember the chipped bowls at Mel’s, the tavern stew in the Market Ward, the buns at Klebbers, and who was across the table when you ate them. This entry is me tracking the bowls and cups that stuck: chowder in East Bay when the observatory stopped being my private project, stew in Skelderheim when my body finally believed that world could feed us, coffee in Continue reading