Expository Stories

Where the Leylines Intersect with the By-Laws

By Jamie F. Bell

The room beneath City Hall was technically a records archive, but its true purpose was far older. The air smelled of ancient paper, stone dust, and the faint, crackling scent of ozone that clung to places of power. Fluorescent lights flickered, fighting a losing battle against shadows that seemed to drink the light. Here, where the city's ley lines converged, the Unseen Arts Council met to manage the delicate balance between the mundane and the magical.

Read Story →

The Motion to Replace the Memorial Geraniums

By Jamie F. Bell

The community hall smelled of damp plaster, stale coffee, and the faint, sweet perfume Bethany always wore. Fluorescent lights hummed overhead, casting a sickly yellow pallor on the peeling paint and the mismatched, uncomfortable chairs arranged in a circle. A plate of digestive biscuits sat untouched on the folding table, a testament to the tension that had been simmering since the meeting began an hour ago.

Read Story →

A Hostile Bid in Watercolour

By Jamie F. Bell

The boardroom on the 80th floor was sterile enough to perform surgery in. A single slab of polished obsidian served as the table, reflecting the perpetually grey London sky outside the floor-to-ceiling armoured glass. The air hummed with the whisper of the climate control and the unspoken threat of corporate annihilation. On the walls, instead of motivational posters, hung priceless works of stolen art, each a trophy from a fallen competitor.

Read Story →

A Quorum of Angles and Shrieking Light

By Jamie F. Bell

The chamber does not exist in any space a human could map. Its walls are shifting theorems of impossible geometry, and the air, thick with the scent of ozone and cooling stars, hums with a frequency that loosens the teeth. At its centre, a table of polished void reflects not the occupants, but the anxieties of any mind that perceives it. This is where taste is legislated and realities are painted.

Read Story →