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@kingsboro2008
The Cornfield Song
An early Harrow encounter, five years after the Bridge Event. Khyren carved out a circular patrol area within an earthen field of corn. In the center of the circle he knelt. He sent a prayer to the First Flower— a melodic, drawn-out tone that rose and fell like breath. He unsheathed a knife, broke up the soil, and pressed his long green fingers into the loosened earth. Soon he reached into…
The Cornfield Song - Harrow Field Notes
Before the Collapse, there was Max Co.
Authored by Arthur Boxford – Archivist He was everywhere — a brand mascot, political spokesman, soda icon, and holiday special host. Sometimes all at once. His face sold everything from cola to unity. His smile never changed. And when the signals went dark, Max kept broadcasting. The Advertising Division preserves the promotional fallout of that forgotten campaign era: t-shirts, mugs, and…
[ARCHIVIST DOSSIER // PERSONAL ENTRY – MAX UNIT SIGNAL]
CLASSIFIED – INTERNAL TRANSMISSION ONLY The Archivist STATUS: UNCONFIRMED RESPONSE The signal has been deployed. The broadcast is live. Units have been dispatched across fractured sectors—flyers, glyphs, slogans, vessels. Each one a carrier of the old brand, a relic of influence coded with hope. No replies. Not yet. This is the quiet between pulses. A dangerous place. A place where doubt…
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Erik becomes Erik Ashford
A cough echoed through a dust-choked grocery store. A second cough awakened a Harrow— A human-shaped shell of a living being, its soul long since stolen. The monster groaned, lifted its head and moved forward. A thin, frayed rope bit into its neck where flesh had rotted away to muscle. It stopped and blinked, cancerous pale eyes settled on a row of glass doors. Behind those doors, where cold…
The Trial of Dr. Gabriel Loren Cross
“Does the jury have a verdict?” The judge sat elevated above the courtroom, his expression flat as he spoke to the jury foreman. The foreman, a tall, vampiric, pale-faced man rose. He opened an envelope, removed a folded sheet and cleared his throat. “We the jury,” he began, “find the defendant guilty of count one, attempted augmentation of a living organism.” “And count two?” The judge…
Creating a new beginning from pieces
An intern, dressed in a light blue hospital uniform, pushed open the door to the executive break room. “Dr. Stein!” he shouted, “something has gone terribly wrong.” Dr. David Stein, sitting in a overstuffed chair, tossed a cup of stale coffee into the sink of the break room. The intern waited then turned and ran out of the room. Dr. Stein followed the intern at a slow, bearable pace. The…
Pilot School
FLIGHT SCHOOL? Napoleon had a small airport. Inside a small group of Kimerian giraffes practice to fly ancient planes. Log 05-16: Napoleon, Large Northeast territory. I let myself into the airport hanger. I closed the metal door. Inside, the room expanded. The ceiling towering over me. Thin beams tracing lines that married seams of sheet aluminum together. To my right a pair of ancient…
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Are Kimerians more human than we think? What I discovered in Elmyra might change everything…
Log 05-10: Elmyra, Territory of the Reds Elmyra, where the boundaries between human and Kimerian blur, survival isn’t just about adapting — it’s about integrating. That’s the inspiration behind the Working the Line collection. Each shirt, mug, and print captures a snapshot of life along the Unknown Highway, where the ordinary and the uncanny converge. Found an office in the center of town. A…
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Shadow - When the Clock Forgot
The shadow of time stood upon a broken wooden deck jutting outward into a dark ocean of water. It stood alone. The tail of its black coat blowing and tethered like a tail. A wide- brimmed hat tilted low, shielding a ghost-pale face from a brine-infused wind. It stands. Moves — almost human — breathing salty air. listening as if the water speaks. Its hat tips, levitates. Rain dances on…
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Changed Pages- “When the Clock Forgot”
Every time my life changes, it does so again — without warning, without pause. I turn to the worn pages of my book and try to make sense of it — a line here, a thought there, something that might rhyme with grief. Change stirs my chest, not like music — more like static, a skipped heartbeat. So I lean away, afraid of falling, of failing — and slip into that old darkness, the one no…
The Crash
A second large piece of plywood crashed to the floor, the sound echoed through the small building like a gunshot. Cracks spidered out across the laminated glass. Some sections bowed inward, ready to collapse. Outside hundreds of thrall stand waiting. Some sway like reeds near a pond. Others stand, no movement at all, sleeping. The humans within the Burger Place gasp. Overwhelmed by the…
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Rebecca who?
Erik began moved toward the group. He felt the weight of the groups eyes upon him. Something felt off and he immediately recognized it. A sudden sinking feeling. His stomach tightened. Erik looked back at Rebecca. She stood still. Not a breath. Not a twitch. He glanced at the others. Their expressions were tight, unreadable. They weren’t looking at her. They were looking at him. The…
Author Note
Started combining all the Chapter posts into a single post for easier reading. I was adding some matthewrstitt.com ads but found out that WordPress throws that on another page… so that doesn’t help. I’m happy the words are still coming for Chapter 2. I’m currently struggling to figure out what is going to happen next but… most of this is written on the fly. Edits done and stored in…
Chapter 2 - Rebecca
The thrall had stopped pounding on the walls of the Burger Place but the silence wasn’t pleasant. Erik stood near the front of the restaurant. Crude plywood covered large plate-glass windows. He looked outside, peeking from a crack in the wooden barrier. The glass, covered in handprints and grime made visibility poor, but he could make out non-movable human shapes. The thrall stood motionless…
Sean Garrison
Erik stood behind Sean Garrison. Sean— a large, broad-shouldered man whose very presence commanded attention. He wasn’t just a survivor; he was one-half of the infamous Garrison brothers, the outlaws of Black Lake. For years, Erik watched from the streets as Sean and his brother terrorized the region. Often slipping past the Black Shirts and avoiding persecution, like it was a game. They moved…
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The Consul
“You’re angry because I belong to the Network?” Rebecca shot back. He sat near the outside wall of the Burger Shack or Station 5, as the Network called it. Outside the 4 x 8 foot wooden planks covering the shattered windows, shadows moved. The thrall paced outside, their forms appeared and vanished through narrow gaps in the boards. Rebecca’s gaze drifted past him. Erik followed it— and…