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Grilled Cheese is a product of Village Compute

Version devBuilt at: 2026-10-17 03:54:26 EDT

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Beware signs for bears, big cats and man

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A barely noticeable twitch of the White One's hood. What did the doc…? Garrett lifted away from the wall and stepped closer to see the tablet screen.
A world map. Lines crisscrossing the image, intersecting in tiny dots. Some of those dots pulsed red, or yellow. "What's that?" he asked.
"A network of theoretical access points between the Nightmareverse and 54 Zanthwood by 3," the doc said. "Factored and prioritized according to Bleed permeability."
"What?"
"We need a more precise designation for the Nightmareverse."
"They're ley lines," Eglemann translated. "They're tears in spacetime between our universe and the bad place. We've been watching them for about a year. She thinks they've existed for centuries."
"Theoretical," Rodriquez said, tilting her head marginally at her engineer.
"It's all bullshit, Sinfonee. You can't track this stuff. We don't have the physics."

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Writing snippet: Daniel arrives in her periphery, panting hard. He puts his fingers against her throat as Diego steps aside.
“Get the trauma kit,” Daniel says. Then, to her, “It’s all right, ‘Del. You’re going to be all right.”
She turns to look at him.
That flash of terror in his deep blue eyes. The slick of hair plastered against his forehead by the rain. The steady heaving of his chest as he assesses her.
“I fucked up,” she says slowly. There's metal mixed into the acid in her throat; her mind flags it, even as it pumps her with adrenaline, preventing her from feeling the full extent, but it’s there, regardless, laced in her breath. She’s bleeding from the inside out.
“Yeah,” Daniel says, and she knows that he’s focused on the head wound, can’t see what she can taste, as Diego arrives with the kit. Daniel presses something against her forehead. “Yeah, you fucked up.” He drops his head for a moment, letting it hang as he continues to hold her to the seat. When he looks up, he’s still breathing raggedly.

Had some fun and gave myself the Van Gogh treatment. I tried to make me in Van Gogh style but I kept looking like I just came out of the woods and asking everyone for toilet paper (see second image)

https://substack.com/@hughtheauthor/note/c-358888308 #AmWriting #WritingPrompt

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Screenshot of novel’s writing target, tallying 35-thousand total words written

A Bunsho puzzle card titled "Three chapters. One line can't be true." Chapter 2: Ellis stepped off at York half asleep. His father's watch stayed on the seat, and the train carried it north without him. Chapter 6: He pawned his coat, then his boots. There was nothing else left to sell. Chapter 11: In the corridor he wound his father's watch and checked the time twice. Below: Spot the slip. Answer in the replies.

Text that says:
Mister Emery described the techniques he would teach in their upcoming sparring sessions: lunge, thrust, stab, strike, block, deflect, advance, retreat.
Hope's thoughts swirled. Could she do this? Should she do this? Her pulse raced (this is cliché). She breathed and silently hummed.
— The Dragon Universe Hope (working title, work-in-progress)

The Giant Carrot
One day, a child at school left her lunch in a locker.
Everyone forgot about it. The sandwich grew mould. The sultanas went hard.
But the carrot was different. It grew larger and larger during the school holidays. When the children returned to school, the Carrot had grown arms, legs, and a face with a mouth full of sharp teeth.
It roared and chased the children around the classroom. Was it going to eat them all? The class pet, a rabbit, leapt to the rescue! The bunny chomped on the carrot until it was no more.
The children cheered. The end.

Milkteeth by Caitlin Starling book cover

Fion’s gaze roved the floorboards, the ceiling, and the rest of the unlikely places an adult male might be able to hide inside a hansom cab, then back to her surprise companion. Her pulse thrummed in her ears, but the parts of her mind that were supposed to react to danger and seek reasonable explanations for inexplicable things were strangely mute.
Joric leaned back in his seat, chest still heaving. “I think you might need an explanation for that.”
“That would be lovely. Thank you.”
He eyed her sideways. “It’s … uh … would it surprise you to hear that I don’t have a good one?”
She sighed. “Not in the slightest.”

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