Category Archives: Fiction

Short Fiction

Flow – #writephoto

river-wye-weir

Photo by Sue Vincent

Note – this is part of the story, Towards the Light.  Click here for previous.  Go to the Table of Contents. Or start at the beginning: (click here for part 1 – The Tunnel)

— —

I sat in my little prison and felt the memories flow out of me like a river.  What was happening?  I knew I had to force myself to think, to remember.

I thought back to Leo and Cate and the cave they had found.  I remembered the dwarves who only appeared to be dwarves, but were really full sized Fair Folk.  An image of the king’s lovely daughter floated above me, tugging at my heart.  What was her name?  My memory began to clear up as the words and images flowed back in.

“Alashina,” I said.  “She had lost her husband to the minions of Blavour, just I lost Lisa to the evils of…”  My eyes teared up.  The memories were too sharp!

But where was I and what was I doing there?

I was on a quest with the wizard, Whindell, to find something to stop the evil Glumoric.  In order to do that I had to find the Stone of Forgetfulness and drape it over Glumoric’s neck.  Easy-peasy.  Right? Continue reading

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I’ll Be Right Back

old-shoes-cobwebs

PHOTO PROMPT © Sarah Potter

The story about Great-grandfather’s shoes again?  I guess it’s appropriate tonight, since it’s been exactly 50 years to the day.

Great-grandfather was a bit eccentric, saying “spacemen” were spying on him.  A guy from the government stopped by, and left laughing.

One evening there was a knock on the door.  When Great-grandfather answered it, a burst of light filled the house.  All that remained of Great-grandfather were his charred shoes.

Before they took Grandfather away, he constantly said the “spacemen” would be back in 50 years.

Hmm, who could be at the door at this hour?  I’ll be right back…

— — Continue reading

Scattered – #writephoto

Scattered

Photo by Sue Vincent

Note – this is part of the story, Towards the Light.  Click here for previous.  Go to the Table of Contents. Or start at the beginning: (click here for part 1 – The Tunnel)

— —

I watched the scattering of stars through the patchwork clouds and wondered what I should do.  Although I had only recently learned of the existence of Blavour, I now found myself there, a land that was supposed to be evil.  There were no more voices and I had never felt more alone.

I began to see lights much closer at hand than those distant stars.  Watchfires were scattered around the countryside.  And one light was headed straight at me.

In a minute, I was face to face with a strange being.  OK, maybe face to belly button because the guy (gal?) was only about half of my height.  In stature, this thing reminded me of a dwarf before they became “Fair Folk”, but this creature was not fair in any way.  OK, it was “fair” in that it was pale, but it was the ugliest thing I had seen in my life.  No, it was even uglier than that. Continue reading

Desolation

danny-boweman-1

PHOTO PROMPT © Danny Bowman

Desolate.  Barren.  Miles of nothing.  Only the hardiest plants survive in the desert, and even those were dying in the drought.

“Why the long face?” Mother asked.  “Oh, by the way, Shelly left you a note.”

There were tire tracks in the boundless lands!  Rain bearing clouds.   Was there hope?

“I just wanted to tell you never to talk to me again!  Don’t even look at me!  I’m sending this note so I don’t have to pollute my air with your presence.”

The tire tracks were gone.  The clouds brought only ground burning lightning, not rain.  The desert stretched forever. Continue reading

Opening

Trent's Eye

Last week I started to think about having a pacifist villain and an ultra violent hero.  So I wrote this first chapter out.  This is just a rough draft, but what do you think?  Should I make this into a book?

— —

I performed a quick scan to make sure nobody could see, did a few quick tricks to hide my tracks, and then hit The Onion Router.   Even the CIA wouldn’t be able to get a bead on me.  I knew.  I ran a report from my botnet.  It’s a little thing of only about thirty million computers, mostly servers, but I can make them act as one supercomputer when I have the need.  Tonight I didn’t have that need.  What I needed was eyes and ears in datacenters around the world.

“Damn,” I said as I watched the data come in.  “He’s up to something.”

I made a few adjustments to see if I could get a better bead on his activities, but it all when blank.

He was on to me.

I dropped all connections, making it all in “observe only mode”. Continue reading

Thanks Everyone!

Fireborn SOCIAL MEDIA USE

Yesterday I did go beyond counting readers of The Fireborn on the fingers on one hand to two, then all of my toes, and ended up needing that abacus I talked about ;)  The rankings did spike for a while – I was #8 and #5 in Arthurian Legends in UK and Canada respectively for most of the day.  Odd, although I used a lot of Arthurian Legend in the book, I never placed it there.  Of course, this morning the numbers are back about were they were two days ago.  It is nice to have the surge, though.

Thank you to everyone who went out and picked it up!  If you read it and like it, please go back to Amazon and leave a review.

Although the sale is over, it isn’t too late to get a copy.  Of course you’ll have to pay for it ;) Continue reading

Fading – #writephoto

light

Photo by Sue Vincent

Note – this is part of the story, Towards the Light.  Click here for previous.  Go to the Table of Contents. Or start at the beginning: (click here for part 1 – The Tunnel)

— —

As I approached the rock, the scene around me began to fade.

“No, wait,” I heard Whindel say, but when I turned to him, he his mouth was moving, but I couldn’t hear anything.  I shrugged and continued to the stone.

Through the hole in the monolith I could see the sun rising over the ocean.  Even though we had recently left the ocean, it was such a contrast from the desert we had been walking in.

No sooner did I think desert than I saw the desert through the hole.  The image of the sea had vanished.  Strange, though, I could see the wizard through the hole.  He should have been behind me.  He was waving frantically, but he faded away. Continue reading

Glow of the Evening

danny-boweman-1

PHOTO PROMPT © Danny Bowman

We walked up the never-healed wound of a 19th century wagon trail.  This was forgotten land, rarely trodden in modern days, awash in legend.  But there were rumors.

“I  see no signs that anybody has been this way in decades,” I said, but my daughter, Jenna, grew more determined.

As the sun set, I could see the glow of the distant city on the horizon, a warning to all.

Nearer at hand, though, was the unmistakable landbound stars of campfires.

Jenna pointed.  “There is yet life here.”

I nodded.  The deepest desert had to be better than the radioactive cities.

— — — Continue reading

A few Notes on Genre

fireborn-005

I’ll admit that I’m a person who does not like to pigeonhole.  I don’t believe creative endeavors should have boundaries.  My favorite music often is in the cracks.  Yes, there are people who classify this same music with exactness, but if you actually listen to the music, or study it (which I have), you find that it just doesn’t fit.  I don’t think imagination should be boxed in.

And yet we do need those classifications.  Would you really buy music if you had zero idea what it was about?  The same, of course is true in fiction.  Genre is important.

As a reader, I have very eclectic tastes.  I’m sure you’re surprised ;)  I hate sticking to a single genre.  And truthfully, I very rarely pay attention to sub-genre.  I recently read a sci-fi book.  After reading it, I looked at reviews and was a little surprised that every review talked about the sub-genre and how well the book did, or didn’t fit that sub-genre.  Can’t you just freaking read the book for itself without pigeonholing it!?  I didn’t even know that sub-genre existed, and yet people were up in arms about it.  I thought it was a good book, so why argue that as a purple-western-star-bong sci-fi book the main character would never have said, “Hello”, she would have said, “Well, Howdy, fandango!”? Continue reading

An Early Morning Paddle

Greg picked held the paddle up and let the kayak drift with the tidal current.  He took a deep breath and listened to the calls of early morning birds.  Occasionally he could hear the sounds of traffic from the surrounding roads, but it was light and the roads themselves were out of his sight.

Greg tried to kayak all year round, but there was something special about late June.  He could be on the water by 5:30 and never see another person on his round trip to the Ocean.  It was the greatest time to just bask in nature at her best.

A flash of movement caught his eye, but by the time he looked, there was nothing except the ripples on the water.  Obviously something big had entered the river, but it didn’t make a sound, just pushed the water out of its way.  As the first of the ripples hit the kayak, ripples big enough to bob the little boat up and down, Greg wondered what it could have been.  There wasn’t anything very large that he could think of that lived this far north.  Well, a bear, perhaps, but he would have seen that.

The ripples had dissipated and he was about ready to start moving again.  He did regret he didn’t see whatever went into the water, but he still felt lucky to be out when no one else was around.

He took one last look around, but ended it with a scream. Continue reading