Category: Fiction

Book Teaser: The Confrontation

Despite the distance, I approached Dracul far too quickly and my heart pounded at sight of him. His skin was bloodless and translucent, revealing blackened veins beneath. His head, with only a few greasy tendrils of hair clinging to it, was topped with what appeared to be a rough leather turban, the fur worn patchy and nondescript. His body, lean and bony, seemed swallowed in a ragged cloak of the same material, tossed back over one shoulder in the warmth of the sun. His nails were longer than those of the other vampyr I had seen, less broken but filthy, and his eyes gleamed yellow like a wolf’s eyes. He had turned from the battle and watched my approach, lips parting in a feral glee that revealed yellowed but terrifyingly sharp fangs. Around him a circle of dead foliage that reached into the tree line and dimmed the sparkle of the crystals at the cliff’s edge testified of his nature.

“Ah yes, the little human,” he hissed, his voice slithering into my ears like a snake. His nails clicked against each other as he waggled his fingers in obvious satisfaction. “At last you have come to me. They always come, don’t they?”

I glanced around, startled, thinking to see another vampyr, but could see only the three of us. Confused, I faltered and hesitated, just at the edge of the dead circle. “Who always comes?” I asked. “And why should they?”

He cackled, an unnerving sound of dry leaves and branches shaken by the wind. “Who can resist my charms?” he hissed, stepping toward me. “My power! Who could defy me?”

“I know many who have not succumbed to you,” I argued, setting my chin. “And some who have broken free from your influence. Where is your power now?”

His lip curled and his oily brows knit together. “A pitiful satyr so unfortunate and witless to find himself caught? So young as to be swayed by the manipulations of a girl?” he sneered. “A giant king of a dwindling kingdom, unable even to hold his own daughter’s loyalty? What are they to me? Dead and buried in their own weakness.”

“They are not so insignificant,” I insisted, silently willing my heart to stop pounding so loudly. “They are the beginning of the web unraveling. You are stretched too thin.”

He sniffed. “Overconfidence is unbecoming in one so young,” he snarled. “What do you know of power, girl?”

Glitch

“Hey, Job, you’re glitching again.” Mara’s voice came through the neural transmitter. “What’s up?”

“This uniform doesn’t fit,” Job’s voice sounded tinny. “The collar has restricted blood flow and the shoulder seams are in the wrong place.” His shoulders twitched repeatedly, and one finger ran first left, then right, then left again under the thin collar, pulling it out of shape.

“The uniform is one solid piece, specially made to form fit,” Mara reminded him. “And you don’t have blood.”

“I cannot perform properly.” Job’s voice thinned farther. “My sensors are certain this uniform is wrong. I must have a new uniform.”

“Job, the uniform is not the problem.” Mara checked her feed. “Run a self-diagnostic immediately. These readings are out of balance; you need to find the source.”

“Uniform is sh-sh-shutting down central p-p-processing.” Job’s voice broke and stuttered, and he ripped at the collar of the uniform. “M-m-m-must cha-cha-“

“Manual override, freeze program,” Mara sighed. “Run full diagnostic on all Job circuits. Not just sensors this time! All circuits! This is the fifteenth test run; clearly the central processor is affected because he’s had a different glitch every time.”

“Unfreeze program.” Mara watched the robot press its cheeks until the face clicked open. “Job, put your face back on. Disconnecting your main sensors is not going to fix your processor. Oh good grief, you’ve done it anyway.”

Going to the Circus

Let’s go to the circus, Leo! I want to see the elephants dance, don’t you? And the pretty ladies on the big swings! Those are my favorite. I ‘m gonna be one of those pretty ladies when I’m big. Cause I like to swing, too! Don’t you like to swing, Leo? Maybe tomorrow you can swing with me.

Maybe they’ll let you be in the circus. I bet you’d be the best lion they ever had. Don’t be scared of the guy with the big black rope that makes loud noises. He won’t hurt you. He just has to make everybody think he will. You just roar and wave and we’ll all clap real hard.

Do you think there’ll be clowns? I’m kinda scared of those. They smile weird. They do make fun balloons, though, and I like those. Maybe, if you hold my hand really tight, I won’t be scared when a clown gives me one.

Can you see the big tent yet, Leo? We’ve been walking a long time and I’m tired. I thought we’d get there faster, didn’t you? I’m hungry, too. I bet Mommy has some animal crackers. Let’s go home and have some. Then all the animals can be in our own circus! Won’t that be fun, Leo? Come on, let’s run!

Book Teaser: The Dragon

When I did see it, I would have screamed if I could have breathed. I no longer heard the waves or felt the wind, and the sunset faded into nothing. Dark red scales and black horns filled my vision. The scrape of a leather belly against stone drowned out every other sound. I watched, frozen, as the creature I had seen in the map crawled yard by yard out of the spire.

The head was massive, with arm-length black spikes rising above nostrils and eyes, fangs as long as I was tall showing through snarling jaws. More spikes, longer than my arm and wickedly curved, fanned out from the back of its head to protect a thick, sinewy neck. The neck rose high above the spire then snaked down as a razor sharp set of claws scarred the stone. The intense chalkboard sound set my teeth on edge and stabbed my eardrums; I choked down a scream of pain. Another set of claws joined the first, and two muscular legs heaved the creature’s body into full view. The thing spread leathery wings, extending them so wide to blot out what remained of the sun. It reared up, a black shadow against the darkening sky. The wind from the movement of its wings nearly knocked me from my perch and I knew my time was up. I stabilized myself one last time as the creature threw its head back and roared.

The bellow was like nothing I had ever heard. It was as if all the stones in all the mountains in all the world fell in one great living avalanche, grinding and cracking against each other with a sentient voice. Flame spewed from its gaping jaws, a raging volcano spitting and splashing its molten death into the air. I could see very little in the deepening dusk, but answering roars and sparks lit up other crystal columns with a horrifying frequency. I had not yet been seen, but my strength was gone and there was no time to waste.

The Square

It was an odd place, cobblestone streets and medieval plaster houses confusingly paired with modern storefronts and colorful canvas awnings. Agatha loved it. Every birthday and anniversary, she insisted we have lunch at the little bistro on the tiny mishmash of a square.

The city had long since turned the houses into a retirement village, which meant that the crowds tended decidedly toward the downward side of the hill, if you know what I mean. I asked Agatha on one birthday somewhere in her early thirties why she preferred the square to any of the popular and romantic downtown spots. She said she couldn’t think of anything more romantic than the square.

Agatha loved watching people, and I loved watching her, so I rarely saw what she saw. But that day she made me pull my chair next to hers and look out over the square. She showed me the couple at the next table whose wrinkled fingers entwined as they sipped black coffee from plain mugs. She showed me the elderly man pushing his wife around in her chair while she chattered excitedly about the window displays in the little shops. She showed me the three sisters with bobbed hair and oversized handbags who made the same round of the square every day, just for the chance to be together.

For thirty years she made me promise we would retire to the square. She never saw her wish come true. Today would have been her 65th birthday, and for thirteen years I have ridden the elevator from my fourth floor plaster-walled apartment to sit under the green umbrella in front of the bistro. Now I watch the young people who occasionally visit, wondering what they are thinking, what Agatha would have made of them. They are different these days, yet the same. I wonder if one day that boy with eyes for only one person will sit here fifty years from now, and hope that bright-eyed girl he adores will be holding his hand over a mug of coffee.

Book Teaser: The Queen’s Guard

   The Amrtaka finally drew so close that the rising dunes began to hide them from view. I hissed a warning to Dagda and Balhon, who instantly prepared for battle. I thought about pulling my chain mail hood back over my head from around my neck where I had let it droop, but decided against it. The metal might clink and alert the centaur to our presence before I was ready. I didn’t put much stock in my chances if the Ban Renfra caught me spying on her.

   I tensed automatically as the group came back into view following the stream between the dunes. Gleaming plate armor covered every inch of their torsos as well as their arms, with wide lower breastplates shaped like the spades in a card game extending down from their chestplates and fastened by leather straps between their legs to a broad billet cinched around the barrel of their equine bodies. The billet held livery stitched with what I assumed to be the Ban Renfra’s insignia in gold, green, and purple. Most of the warriors wore helmets crested with the same insignia, but one stood out with a streaming plume of what appeared to be horsehair dyed in the Ban Renfra’s colors. Centaur hair, I corrected myself. I shuddered, my stomach clenching slightly as I wondered for the first time if Dagda had been right to be wary of a ruler who would wear the hair of her own people as a crown.

   “We will rest here briefly,” I heard a woman’s voice say, and the centaur formed up around the plumed warrior. “Never mind formation; you four drink and replenish your water bags. The rest of you take a dune each and scout. Then report back here and exchange duties.”

   Her guards obeyed, and I had turned to warn my companions when her next words froze me in place. “Keep a close watch for the king and his human pet. The dwarves said that they had foiled Dracul’s efforts to liberate Gard, and that they were last seen travelling east. If fortune smiles upon us, His Treacherous Majesty will be on his way to manipulate the pegasi into helping him. Dracul would reward us richly for delivering the girl to him.”

Crow

Brent chortled into the mask. This was gonna be the best prank ever. Forget trick-or-treating, that was stupid kid stuff. He was gonna scare the pants off some partiers in the park tonight. He just needed to find the perfect spot.

He ducked under a vine that hung over the entrance to an old footpath. It obviously hadn’t been used in some time; the parks department must have decided it wasn’t worth maintaining. It would be perfect. He slipped the crow mask over his head and ducked behind a nearby tree. Just enough cover to keep him hidden until drunk party goers walked right up on him. Grinning in satisfaction, he turned around to lean against the trunk and wait.

Behind him on the trail stood another guy in the same mask. Brent jumped, then groaned. “Oh, come on, man! This is my prank! Find another crowd to get your kicks off of, will you?” The other masked figure stood motionless and silent, staring at Brent with arms behind his thin frame. Brent fidgeted. “Hey, that’s an awesome costume. You really know how to get in character, don’t you?”

The beak clicked lightly, setting the black feathers above it trembling. Brent suddenly realized that his own had been tickling him for several minutes as they blew in the breeze, but the other guy’s feathers hadn’t moved at all until that moment. He cleared his throat, darting glances back down the main path, hoping for some early revellers, some lost trick-or-treaters, anything. The beak clicked again, then opened into a black maw. Brent’s scream was lost in the croaking rasp of the crow.

Scorched

It had been a week since Grims and I had sealed ourselves into the storm shelter. Fortunately for us Grims was a bit of a prepper. There had been enough food stored in there that we didn’t starve, although the composting toilet left much to be desired. In fact, as soon as Grims said we could check the surface I carried that thing out and dumped it. I didn’t even care what was waiting out there.

Now that essential task was complete, we had to figure out what to do next. If I didn’t know for a fact that we had been stuck in a hole for the past seven days, I wouldn’t have known where we were. The house was gone, not even charcoal left to mark where it had stood. The air was thick and gray with stale smoke, gusts of wind lifting dust devils of choking ash from the unrecognizable ground. Grims’ orchards were nothing but twisted stumps, stark against the smudged sunlight weakly fading through the smoky cover.

I coughed and covered my nose with my now smelly t-shirt. Grims grunted in displeasure at my exposed midriff, but I didn’t see the point. From the looks of things no one was going to be around to see it. I wondered how many of the neighboring farmers had made it to shelter in time. Maybe they were better off if they hadn’t. On the bright side, there wasn’t anything left for the beasts to come back for. We’d die from starvation instead of fire. Or maybe from suffocation; the inside of my shirt was as bad as the air outside.

Book Teaser: The Mer

   Marinus and his companion turned and dove into the ocean, waves having piled up around us against the sloping sand. Our bubbles kept pace with them, seemingly drawn by invisible tethers emanating from the merman’s outstretched hands. I tried to look around as we were drawn into the deep water, but the rushing water flowing past me around the edge of the bubble so disoriented my senses that I had to close my eyes to conquer the bile rising in my throat.

   We slowed and excited voices reached me through the liquid shell surrounding me. I opened my eyes to find myself in the midst of a crowd of staring swimmers. Eyes the color of the depths of the sea in scaled faces sharing the bright hues of a coral reef examined every part of us. The voices spoke in a strange language, reminding me strongly of whale song I had heard on Earth. I listened, fascinated, as Marinus responded in the same language, his own voice no longer the roaring of surf, but overpowering the others the way a lion’s roar would drown out the mews of his cubs. The crowd quieted and drew back but continued to follow, attracting more swimmers the farther we went.

   With our speed slowed I was finally able to look around me. Mer was one of the most mesmerizing places I had ever seen. Houses seemingly grew from living coral, pockets across their surfaces filled with small fish and sea creatures that darted about with abandon. Wide thoroughfares of deep sand ran between them. Here and there floated odd water sleds of what appeared to be some exotic leather stiffened with whalebone, harnessed behind huge fish that despite fins and gills reminded me incongruously of cattle.

   The merpeople themselves were nothing like Earth stories had painted them. The men were large and fierce, heavy fins protruding from their forearms and upper backs. Many of them bore scars that broke the sleek lines of their bodies. All carried spears strapped to their shoulders, connected to leather cords wrapped multiple times around their waists. The women were smaller, slimmer, and their fins streamed behind them like rippling trains, but their teeth were as sharp as those of the men and their fingers were tipped with sharp spikes. I was surrounded by colors brighter than I had imagined possible enhanced by the rippling sunlight making its way below the waves.

The Box

She closed the door slowly, keys slipping from her fingers to the entryway table with an absurdly loud clatter in the silent house. A light showed dimly under the kitchen door and her feet moved automatically in that direction.

Her hand slid across the door as she pushed it open and a broad swath of light broke the endless night of the hallway. The overhead lamp blazed above the breakfast table, showing off the place settings for two ready for the next morning’s date. She touched the edge of one plate, fiddling with the paper napkin hanging slightly over.

She squeezed her eyes shut and sighed heavily before looking to the center of the table. Pink roses lay in no particular arrangement around a tiny cardboard box tied with brown cord. Her hand shook as she reached for the box, and nerveless fingers bent the edge of the note stuck beneath the knot.

He should have been the one to open it. He should have been waiting for her as they had planned. It should have been the beginning of the rest of their lives. It wasn’t fair. A panicked urge to flee backed her into the door that had swung shut behind her, and she slid to the floor with the box crushed against face, dissolving slowly in unheeded tears.