PROSATIO SILBAN DIDN’T ACTUALLY MEAN to offend a decedent cook – but sometimes, that’s just how the game-bones fall. This is how it began: The culinary mercenary was browsing his favorite secondhand book-and-scroll shop in the city of epicurean Pormaris…
Tag: Fictions
What I’m trying to become a writer of.
Prosatio Silban and the Infinite Application
THE RICH PANOPLY OF UULIAN cuisine offers recipes suitable for everyday use, as well as those forming the culinary backbone of special occasions. And sometimes, one can serve both conditions. Prosatio Silban smiled the smile of a man completing a…
Prosatio Silban and the Familiar Spirit
WHEN VISITING YOUR BOYHOOD HOME after the passage of too-many years, it’s only natural that it should seem quite a bit smaller than last you saw it. But aside from towering over the landscape, Prosatio Silban was amazed by how…
Prosatio Silban and the Midnight Invader
THERE ARE FEW SITUATIONS AS disquieting as falling awake in the middle of the night convinced you’ve heard an intrusive sound, but with no aural evidence to back such an urgency. Prosatio Silban lay still in his galleywagon’s sleeping berth,…
A Prosatio Silban Amuse-Bouche: Room
“DOESN’T IT MAKE YOU CLAUSTROPHOBIC to cook in such confinement?” asked a visitor to Prosatio Silban’s close-quartered galleywagon. “Less than you would think,” the beefy cook answered over the chop-chop-chop of mincing lizard-breast. “I actually find that it makes me…
Prosatio Silban and the Three Prayers
PROSATIO SILBAN WAS ALONE. True, he had the company of his faithful dray-beast, Onward. But as for others of the beefy cook’s own species, none were nearby for long miles – one reason why his surroundings were known as the…
Prosatio Silban and the Annual Doom
TO SOME, DEATH IS AN unwelcome interloper; to others, a faithful ally. And to even others, its palpable presence can bring a type of hope. Prosatio Silban swallowed the last of the blue duliac in his glass and sighed. He…
Prosatio Silban and the Refectional Research
THERE ARE ONLY SO MANY variations dictated by a food’s texture and flavor, but Prosatio Silban was determined to find a new one. It was sultry in the beefy cook’s galleywagon, but not from the season. In point of fact,…
Prosatio Silban and the Sick Call
SOMETIMES, EVEN THE IDEA OF rolling out of bed is too painful for words. Prosatio Silban was sick. He wasn’t quite sure with what, but the symptoms were plain: congested head and chest, sore throat, joint- and head-ache, cough, chills,…
Prosatio Silban and the TED Talk
IT WAS A GREAT HONOR to speak before a throng of one’s peers at epicurean Pormaris’ Archive of Gastronomic Artifice – but it was also not without its terrors. Prosatio Silban made a point of perusing the Archive at least…
Prosatio Silban and the Affable Invitation
AS A COOK-ERRANT, PROSATIO SILBAN perhaps knew better than anyone the importance of first impressions. “What a charming turn of phrase!” exclaimed the elegant middle-aged woman sitting down at the beefy cook’s table-and-chairs in the afternoon shade of his galleywagon.…
Child’s Play (A Prosatio Silban Tale)
THERE IS A MOMENT IN AN out-of-control situation when its utter wrongness becomes agonizingly apparent – and it’s the same moment that the experiencer realizes there’s not a damn thing to be done about it. Such were Prosatio Silban’s thoughts…