home, the tamelin light


Quotes are from the series; pictures are a few of the interpretations submitted by the author and also Tamelin Light readers

talitha tamelin

“Sometimes at night,” she continues, “I look up at Jupiter and my thoughts settle on the Galileo probe, when it was out there. We’re all on this planet together. Even someone perishing on a life boat in the middle of the ocean is still here, still expiring among the rest of us. But the Galileo was alone, cut off as it circled that unspeakably violent planet with its huge storms and billion-watt torus. And this is what I think: what if it was aware of its desolation? And then I’m there, I am the probe, cold and falling and utterly alone.”

name, talitha


"The deepest layer of Hell is not inferno
But the dark prison of the sea,
Where Satan is fetid slime-lord
Lying dead in his watery grave,
Writhing ’neath tainted water, he and his spawn
Wriggle through their penitentiary depths,
Cold and silent and utterly alien, hungering for freedom,
For air and for warmth.
Thus did my father and then my dearest, my darling sister attract it."



name, annelli


I had been warned again and again through what seemed like daily transgressions against Tradition, Duty, and of course, Obedience. I set every face of my defiance against the certain knowledge of endless death – the sort that the inventive watcher over our House pursued with patience – ever described to me in animated detail. I do not know what it was in me that so mocked three thousand years of careful breeding. Mine would be a life of loss. Mine has been a life of loss.

But at least I had something of value to lose.

name, iris

Dr. Julian Seamus O'Rourke

A sound like a train coming through the living room window jolted him, but it was only the phone ringing. The police. And a doctor. There had been an incident, someone named Talitha. Asking for him before she went unconscious.

In ten minutes he was climbing into the car, the cats complaining from their carriers in the back.

Mysterious call from the authorities - check. Bandaged, barely usable hand - check. Caterwauling felines - check. Nightmares and feelings of anxiety and dread - check.

Must be time for another meeting with the Tamelins.

name, julian

shaman esker The man spins around and Shaman steps back. Celine's eyeballs have become pearls, completely milky white save for violet pinpoints in the center. His lips move but there is no longer any sound. His hand rises to point behind and above Shaman.

Well, that’s fucking creepy. But he remembers his training, not to mention lessons learned from countless monster movies, and spins ninety degrees taking a step back at the same time so that he is perpendicular to Celine and whatever the object of the madman’s right forefinger is.

He should have smelled it, caught it out of the corner of his eye, something. Peering down are the several glowing white orbs from the monitor. They are poised between fedora and trench coat.

One of the Scotland Yard nazgul, he thinks.

name, shaman


“Do you remember the lab report on these? What they were made of?” asks Shaman.

“Uh, hydrogen and sulphur, sulphur sulphi-, no, oxide.” Forschan licks his lips and tries again. “Wait, hydrogen oxide and sulphur sulphide.”

“Rusty hydrogen and sulphur sulphur? You don’t know, do you?”

Forschan throws Shaman a look. “How about a confused beast from the Serengeti?”

Shaman laughs. “Yeah, one of your Hellifinos.”

“I know there’s always hair, bone, human skin and other people droppings,” Forschan continues. “Definitely the victims’ DNA.”

“Not from the victims? These are the victims?” LeRice, who had walked over to them, asks.

Forschan shakes his head. “Someone treated these people to a chemical peel that went all the way.”



elle anjou

"Technology is to science what ritual is to religion. People who follow the path of science question why things are as they are, whereas technology is about playing with toys. You can always tell folks wrapped up in ritual or tech: lots of gimmick, little sense."

name, elle



Something has happened. Buzzing everywhere. I cannot breathe but want to, need to. And see, need light! need to touch! Wind in memory—wind blowing now, I feel it. And pain! This real pain, real life, real breaths of solid lungs. It has happened. Stars and galaxies, it has happened! Gasp for breath, for air! My limbs—I have limbs. Arms and legs tied, bleeding, broken. Pounding pulse, headache, blood rushing, panic, terror at edge of madness. But—

I am alive! I am—

“. . . alive . . .”

Alive! I am—

“. . . returned!”

name, celine

Dr. Astound

Astound steps in and adjusts unseen sliders, pushes invisible buttons. The black board rotates out of sight. The monitor moves towards her and comes to life with a bizarre animation of a squid-headed humanoid creature holding eight lollipops. The creature is licking each human-shaped sucker with a different tentacle. Smacking sounds come out of embedded speakers.

Shaman rotates an eye to Astound.

“Ignoring it,” she responds and hits the space bar, banishing the apparition. In its place are icons on a deep red background.

“Ssseek," she hisses. "All answers exisst in the universse. Some are here.”

doctor astound