The Inkwell presents: A Celestial Alignment

By The Inkwell

As with our forefathers and theirs before them, the movement of the stars and planets through the skies has always fascinated humanity. And none more so than when those celestial bodies align in some way or another. Sometimes they're simply beautiful expressions of our cosmos. But other times, they're portents of something more sinister, or amazing, than we could ever imagine. Come explore 9 stories that divine the sky.

Silence, Like a Cancer, Grows - Struggling with the fallout following betrayal, two lovers examine their relationship with a little help from a powerful friend.
Time's Inequality - A tale as old as time, discover how the protector learned from the protected and the friendship they shared.
You Won't Know - An attempt at closure does not go as planned.
Committed - One night, one chance, one desperate man longing for the return of the one he thought lost.
Prophecy From Hell - The muumuu was everything Gluttony wanted, comfy and to his tastes—until it developed a taste for him.
Prodigal Son - When an intrepid captain strikes up an unlikely partnership with a dragon, who knows what lies ahead?
Destined to Last - When this tree fell in the woods, it most certainly was heard.
Doing Summer Right - On the last day before summer camp, two counsellors become reacquainted.
Alignment of Planets - It is a most important occasion, and everything needs to be just right. So, of course, the organizing committee must meet for discussion.

• Language: English
• Publisher: The Inkwell
• Release date: Aug 2, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005285364

The Inkwell

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Book preview

Silence, Like a Cancer, Grows

An Excerpt from What We Cannot Hear

Written by S.A. McKenzie

Following the announcement that President Ken Wagner was served with articles of impeachment, Spencer Thompson buried herself in work. If she could just focus on this bill for refunding the NEA, she could forget what she was being asked to do; forget she was effectively being asked to throw President Wagner under the bus. Forget they would ask questions about Joseph, about her job, her past, Jack. The thought of dragging Jack (and by extension Joseph, even though she was still pissed at him) through the muck of these proceedings almost made her throw up. Right there. At her desk.

But she swallowed thickly against that knee jerk reaction and kept working. It was the only thing she could do without devolving into anger, frustration, and tears. Not that that was completely off the table. She’d been struggling against that for weeks, attempting to gather herself and work with her lawyer once it was clear her deposition wasn’t going away. However, that day, sitting at her desk, she couldn’t hold it back any longer. She just cried. She didn’t know what else to do. 

In hindsight, crying in the office was always a bad idea. There were eyes everywhere and, after Joseph revealed their relationship to the staff, there were reporters everywhere as well. She couldn’t hide. There was always someone who might see her and, whether they were the person who leaked the story in the first place or not, she was now suspicious of everyone she interacted with. She’d never figured who that was, but she had a few ideas. 

Spencer lifted her head to take a deep breath, attempting to gather herself when she saw the President about to wave for her attention. She stood immediately, almost knocking her chair backward and into the window. She hastily wiped at her eyes, ashamed, but the President appeared at least a little sympathetic. That was the great thing about President Wagner. He was kind and looked after his staffers. He never felt the need to belittle them, berate them, or demand they control their emotions. Emotions make you stronger, he told her plenty of times after she got heated over something in meetings with congressmen and other officials. She knew that, but sometimes needed the reminder.

Mr. President, she began, reaching for a tissue to dab at her eyes, her ruined mascara blackening it. How long were you standing there?

President Wagner smiled reassuringly, his hands shoved in his trouser pockets, green eyes sparkling rather fondly in the dim light of the office. Not long, he replied, reaching out to shut the door before waving her to sit. You okay?

She waved him off. I’m fine. To what do I owe the pleasure, sir? 

I just came to check on you, Spencer. I know things have been difficult for you recently.

Her shoulders slumped and tears welled in her brown eyes. She tried to blink them away. They would make it harder for her to read his lips. 

I’m, as they say, battling. That’s all I can do right now. 

He nodded. She could see the gears in his head turning, but she kept her mouth shut and waited for him to speak. 

Is there anything I can do to make things easier? 

Spencer quirked an eyebrow in surprise. With all due respect, Mr. President, I appreciate the offer, but you have bigger things to worry about right now. 

A smile spread across his face and his shoulders shook with laughter. She felt shades of confusion mingling with the surprise and sadness she bore. She didn’t know quite what to do with that. Why was he laughing?

I’m not worried about the impeachment at all. 

A feeling of horror and all encompassing anxiety gripped her heart. "Mr. President, again, with due respect, you should be. We all should be."

Why? She was about to speak when he continued, Because I hired you? I hired Ronnie? I went through the proper channels and followed the law, but Republican Senators still object. Because you were a therapist before this? He sneered at the thought. 

They’ll uncover more, Spencer pointed out dutifully.

Let them, Spencer. We’re ready for them. 

She laughed weakly. I’m not. She took a breath to calm her raging nerves and the surprise at his nonchalance. Mr. President, I wish you would reconsider my resignation. Mine and Ronnie’s.

You and Ronnie are indispensable members of my staff. I do not, and will not, accept your resignations. 

He was stubborn, she had to give him that. Absently, she scratched the back of her neck during the ensuing lull in conversation, her mind wandering. It quickly refocused on the present when she saw the President speaking, and she managed to catch the tail end of his words. 

I’m sorry. Can you repeat that, Mr. President?

When’s your deposition?

Tomorrow.

He nodded, once again mulling over something. Has Joseph talked to you at all?

Not yet.

I, uh, noticed you two aren’t really speaking much. Is everything alright?

Define ‘alright’, she said wryly.

Do you want me to talk to him about it? President Wagner asked.

Not particularly, sir, but thank you. The President nodded, suddenly appearing worried about something. She watched as he stared a hole in an inconspicuous spot of her desk. Was there something else?

He glanced at her. Has he told you anything in particular? About himself. About his past.

The President was fishing, skirting around something she couldn’t grasp, but what was it? And why did it have the President, of all people, worried? He obviously wasn’t bothered about the impeachment hearings, but whatever this was had him ruffled.

I know he’s a recovering alcoholic. That’s all he’s told me.

He looked nervous. Every time he worried around her, he’d take off his glasses and fiddle with them, like he was deep