Fictional Derivations

Photography: Foxtongue
Three twisted pieces of metal gleamed on the rich mahogany of the dining room table, the largest about three inches in length and maybe an inch wide, pinched in the middle. The smallest was no longer and no thicker than Arcady’s index finger. He delicately picked up the pieces, turning them over [...]

Photography: MCS_flickr
Arcady and Inspector Kincaide stared each other down, like two stray tomcats individually deciding yet not deciding whether now was the time to claw the enemy’s eyes out.
Zene wondered what the equivalent of a bucket of water would be.
“It’d help us both if you’d lay all your cards on the table,” said [...]

Photography: mandj98
Arcady looked back at the gate and scowled at the approaching figure. “My damn father,” he muttered, snapping his cellphone shut, “can’t seem to keep a promise. Which makes him perfect for running for office this year.”
Hestia reached the gate, out of breath, and stretched up towards a control panel behind [...]

Photography: *^ ^* Sherry

“I’m surprised the old man didn’t try harder to frame me for murder,” said Zene. They had managed to stop by a McDonald’s after all, and he was working his way through a quarter-pounder as the hybrid sat mired in traffic on the bridge.
“He would never do that,” said Arcady. [...]

Photography: Murdoch666

Zene woke up on the sofa, neck painfully stiff. He reached out for the bottle of ibuprofen on the coffee table, conveniently located to deal with the aftereffects of “the night before” every other morning. Dry-swallowing two pills, he got up and headed to the kitchen for water.
In the gray light of [...]

Photography: porkfork6

“I didn’t fucking kill him.”
“No one said that you did, Mr. Zene,” said Chief Inspector Malady Kincaide. “We just find your situation a little suspicious.”
Zene sighed. He never should have accepted the money. They’d found Arcady’s advance on him, and the check was now a hostage in a little plastic bag in someone’s [...]

Photography: Jaako

“How did you find me?” asked Arcady, not turning around. He was gazing over misty Lake Washington, elbows resting on the stonework balcony railing.
Zene leaned on the railing next to him. “One, you wouldn’t go anywhere near your father, so I took the stairs on the opposite side of the room. [...]

Photography: Jaysspace.com

“So, how is Arcady doing?” asked Hestia.
They had retired to a corner table with a bottle of Crown Royal, the contents of which Zene was drinking with more cultured relish than the amateur wine-tasters hovering about.
He carefully considered his next words, which might make the difference between one Crown Royal or two.
“Chipper. [...]

Painting: Pieter Claesz

The raindrop notes of the first prelude of Bach’s Das Wohltemperierte Klavier played out like a spring shower, dancing between the clink of wineglasses and the murmur of voices. To his surprise, Zene was enjoying himself.
Don’t get too confident, he thought. It’s not like it’s Britten.
Under the warm light of the [...]

Photography: arquera

The first thought in Zene’s mind was the gun. The second was to deftly shift his cello so that its body rested firmly against his chair as he leaped straight for Arcady. His passage sent the music stand crashing.
The gun skittered out of Arcady’s hand and across the floor.
Zene lifted Arcady by [...]