There was no indication that the holes Sylvie accidentally knitted into her first scarf would be portals in space and time.
In the night, the silent robots took away his wife and left a note in her place.
It started the day she returned from the morgue.
The tide seeped away, grey water into black sand.
The first time Pinyit’s father showed him the orbs in the shed, he’d been so frightened that he kicked and screamed the whole way down the garden path, right up until his father crouched down in front of him and gripped his shoulders tight, fingers digging into fresh bruises so hard that he winced.
There’s not a soul in this city-state who hasn’t heard of the Crystal Pyramid.