Category: original fiction

Exiled 356 words Damn the prophet! "I warn you. She who controls the wind will bring destruction." When that man had wandered into her town, they had welcomed him with open arms, after all he was a traveller simply looking for a room for the night. With his long, stained robe, his gnarled walking stick, and the small pack, he had not seemed like a threat, but he had stayed and stayed, and every day his clear blue eyes seemed a little more threatening, his demeanor a little more commanding. The elders listened to him, knowing that he had seen more of the world than they had. They believed his stories of fights among the dukes, of invaders gathering in the north. He frightened them and they allowed it. Shyla's mistake had been to contradict him, to announce in the square that she didn't trust him, to allow her anger to escape into a tempest that whipped through the town. That man, that self-proclaimed...

Just a warning. This is not a full-story. It ends just when it's getting started. And yes, the title's cheesy, but I couldn't come up with anything better. A Killer Weekend 384 words "Welcome," I murmur, my voice husky and soft, forcing my audience closer. "I'm so glad you could join us." I can't believe I've sunk to this, hosting a "Haunted Weekend," my beautiful turn of the century manor transformed for the month into a dreary, spooky, cobweb-laden house. Tall candles light each room, sending flickering shadows across the spaces. But each weekend party is fully-booked and even most of the weeknights. It's bringing in money, which was the point. I lead the way into the dining room, where Justin is already seated at the head of the table, the goblet in front of him filled with deep red wine. "Sit." A wind whistles outside, moaning through the branches of the oak, rattling the windows. The creaking stairs and an occasional small bang...

"In the Clearing" 381 words Jack felt as if he was being watched. Of course, here in the woods, all manners of creatures were watching him, the deer and birds, mice and squirrels, fairies and perhaps the witch whose cottage was nearby. But this different, it was as if the watcher was always with him, following him for weeks from village to village, delighting with him when he had tricked the giant into leaving the valley, mourned with him when his dog died. Friend or foe, Jack wasn't sure. At times Jack sensed the watcher wanted him to get into trouble, was not content with the days he was in peace in his own home, happy and content. Jack came up with a plan. He needed to know who was watching over him, a guardian angel or someone more sinister. He would retrieve his grandfather's harp, the one who could play by itself. It was against the rules of course, the harp kept...

Beyond the Peaks 347 words The sun is rising over the far hills. I hear its song waking the world. The birds twitter their thanks, the trees seem to straighten, ready to face a new day, even the grain, blowing gently in the breeze reflects its golden light. I feel alone this morning, the only audience for this magnificent show. Silly, I know, but I relish the peace and quiet. It's been a long journey. I sit beside the great tree, taking a rest before beginning the hike over the hills. The tree is a landmark for me, tall, strong, safe, so broad and solid, here for centuries, keeping silent vigil over the valley.  The ball rests in my hand, heavy for its size, the liquid silver swirling just below its surface. I had finally found the orb in a small shop in Freymere, abandoned among dusty relics and battered books, its power unrecognized. I bought it for a pittance, happy that I had...

In Need of a Champion 405 words I hate this place. This forest full of creatures and plants, birds pulling at my hair, apples falling on my feet, grass staining the bottom of my gown. Even the trees and flowers seem to mock me, their rich hues and graceful curves overshadowing my beauty. But I have my mission. The hunter I need is in the woods today, stalking the deer. He will be my champion in the games on the Mount. I've been watching him. He's agile and swift, his arrows fly true, he's intelligent and not a little cunning. He will beat the other god's representatives, by skill or by deception, I care not which. Ah, he's coming.  I sit on a tree stump, spreading my teal skirt around me, and wait. He approaches slowly, warily. He nears and I see the surprise in his face when he recognizes me, wandering no doubt why I am here. He falls to his knees...

My Ghost 346 words In the wood the slanting evening light plays with the leaves, dancing shadows flit across the path. I heard that tune again through the open window. It called me, urged me to come down the path to the old gazebo. The trail is overgrown, no one comes this way anymore, but I can't resist. The lilting melody is louder here. It's a man's voice, a rich tenor, but I can't quite make out the words. How I wish I could remember them. Michael sang that song to me the last night we met, here at the gazebo, the night before he disappeared. Ran away, they said. I couldn't believe it, couldn't bear it. I left. Now, here I am again. Home. Only now the house belongs to me, to us. But I hear that singing every evening. I can't ignore it. I gets inside me, I have to follow it. Once I reach the gazebo I sit on the...