eblo
Lindsay Bison
Writing speculative fiction in digital longhand.
![Lindsay Bison](/content/images/size/w320/2024/05/bison_500-1.png)
![The scratching of an itchy nib](/content/images/size/w600/2024/05/may-20-2024.png)
writing
The scratching of an itchy nib
Welcome to longhand digital fiction - my aim is to write blogs, stories, and novels by hand, and then type them up verbatim to accompany the cursive - after a chapter, or short story, I will post the edits to the original writing - repeat ad infinitum and suddenly there
![Tessellation Breakdown](/content/images/size/w600/2024/05/Firefly-a-purple-sea-creature-floating-in-space-48109.jpg)
Tessellation Breakdown
0.0 TESSELLATION BREAKDOWN The box was empty. It was the second impossible event of the morning. First, the symmetry drive was failing; now the reserve ammunition was gone. Wemly forced the gun into her boot. Thirteen shots and then death, if she wasn't dead already. 0.1
![The Trough](/content/images/size/w600/2024/05/Firefly-snake-in-the-centre-of-a-flayed-arm--oil-painting-13436.jpg)
The Trough
Afternoon. The trough. Restlessness slithers into my veins, the serpent of endless possibility. It circulates, scraping my insides, leaking its venom but sinking its fangs into nothing. An ache in my teeth that cannot be gnashed away. The broken-glass toxins refract harsh light, immobilizing photographers in a shimmering haze that
![Scabbard](/content/images/size/w600/2024/05/Firefly-scabbard-of-an-old-sword-99795.jpg)
story
Scabbard
He sits on the log, a stump really, one hand gripping the scabbard, and the other sliding the blade in and out, no doubt imaging that each thrust is into some enemy, maybe one that his father defeated, or more likely, one bigger and tougher, one that only he could
![The Magic of Childhood](/content/images/size/w600/2024/05/Firefly-A-man-splitting-a-log-with-an-axe--black-wisps-of-smoke-rise-from-the-log--while-two-people-.jpg)
short
The Magic of Childhood
The log exploded. Black vespers curled out, slinking and snaking towards Dad. He waved the splitting maul through the dark tendrils and they burst into fine particles. The glass orb at the butt of the maul flashed bright blue, like the after image of a lightning strike. Any time I