Tales

Yesterday, a strange man entered the headquarters of The Inquirer and Reflection. This man (named Todd) was quite angry with us; he claimed to be an employee of the paper! When we told him we had no record of his employment, now or in the past, he grew red in

Perched upon Scrivener’s Point, the spirit of inspiration casts its gaze upon the wilds beyond. Many people, many lives, but always the same spirit. Is that what I think it is? There, floating high on some fluffy collection of water vapor… is that, a castle? Imagination flows — ships in

The Skeleton King stepped over stars and hopped over a beautiful, blue and orange nebula to set me down among the hill folk. “These folk can be trusted,” the king said. “You’ll be safe here.” He turned and prepared to leap into the cosmos once more, but before he

The cosmos is vast and unknowable. Through consciousness we venture and make contact with the unknown. This is the limitation of our existence.

I sat in the hand of the Skeleton King as he carried me away from the castle. He oscillated between jovial and dejected. I suppose mood swings are to be expected when one has been dead long enough to become a monarch. “What were you doing in there?” The king

Our sense of self is our greatest strength and our greatest weakness. The self allows our personal consciousness to navigate the seas of existence, but so too does it prevent our communion with the Universal Consciousness.

“Little People are fierce protectors of nature. Don’t mistake their size and demeanor for frailty. A lone boulder in a field may remain untouched because the locals know, or perhaps fear, that it is the home for the faeries that inhabit the land. Disrespecting the faeries’ homes can lead

“Faeries, or Little People as the locals refer to them, are reclusive beings. One might take a hundred strolls through the woods and never encounter evidence of their existence. However, travel into the deep woods and you may chance across one. Caution, though! You must respect these areas of nature

The threads of existence are intertwined with consciousness. Without consciousness the cosmos would cease to exist. This is the Great Paradox.

“Good luck, Tracy!” “Surprise, Tracy!” What a fucking joke, Tracy thinks to herself. From bumfuck nowhere to hillbilly central. How’d an aspiring Pulitzer-caliber writer end up stuck with these cryptid-fawning tabloids. None of this work is going to garner any recognition (with sane people, at least). If Harvest didn’

“I ventured farther into the lighthouse. It’s funny — lighthouses are small places, yet in our imaginations they seem like castles. Shadows cling to my limbs. Ahead is a cracked door, a light peeking through creases in the darkness. I’m drawn to the door — who wouldn’t be? But

Something’s following me. It’s playing a game of cat and mouse. The dangerous thing — it knows it’s the cat. Wake up. Wake UP! No luck. My strides extend. Before I realize, I’m running down a hallway through shafts of icy moonlight. I should never have come

Through the Goat’s Teeth, among the northeastern woods, a cloaked figure wanders. It’s so dark; a new moon hovers in the sky. They seem to be following something, but what is hard to say. There! A second cloak moves among pines and quaking aspens. A third. And… is

Bands of purple and pink awash the mountains beyond Hornswatch. A Stone Dweller leans on a windowsill carved out of the mountainside. They look out over the jagged valley below. The morning star glimpses over the horizon shining warm orange into the crags and crevices. Beyond the peaks at the

We here at The Inquirer and Reflection are excited to announce that we’re expanding our operations and news coverage to Healing Springs, AR. The market there is even smaller than what we’re accustomed to in Harvest, OK (where our HQ is located), so it should fit our business