A plain envelope adorned in a blood red seal with a slightly rancid smell emanating off of it. Upon opening, the recipient would discover the contents include a clump of blonde hair caked in dried blood attached to a strip of someone's cleanly cut scalp. 

D,

The snow had turned to slush, streaked with blood and ash. Bodies lay scattered across the clearing—Orcs, men, and beasts twisted by shadow. The battle was over, but its echoes clung to the air like a wound that refused to close.

Imagine the sun suddenly going out, just like that. There was no warning, no earthquake or other natural disaster, just the end of light. At first we could see the stars, then a Darkness came up to us. This Darkness was a thing in itself. It was thick and cloying. It blocked light and sound, and even breath.

There were thirty left. 

She was sitting at her desk in the side room that was lit by only one lamp, and turned as I was but a few feet away. “You!” she said. There was no fear on her face, only disgust. “Ungrateful creature, after all we did for you.”

A Fishin' Expedition

One evenin' I finished me stories a bit early. This gave me grandkids the opportunity to start askin' questions.

'Who's Cú Chulainn, Granda?' asked Dooli. 'Some lads in the village were talkin' 'bout him, and...'

Beggar’s Alley always stank of rot and smoke, but that night it seemed worse, as though the whole lane knew what had happened. The house was little more than a sagging hut of timber and broken slate; its windows patched with rags. Inside, the air was still. Too still.