New Year, New Stories

Photo by Matt

With the new year upon us, it's time this pseudonym of mine got a jolt with the cattle prod. I'm back on the drafting horse and cranking out around 2k words every day. What kind of words? Paranormal ones! Keep your eyes open for ghost-y shorts to grace this page in the coming weeks and a polished collection of stories by the end of the quarter.

And then, your favorite part comes next: Voting on the most loved short in the collection to be turned into a stand-alone novella.

Keep your eyes pealed.

Running With Scissors Pt. 9

Original photo by Steve

RWS is a serial fantasy story that posts every Monday following Danielle, a regular girl stuck in an irregular world where unicorns serve as judge and jury, gnomes have infested the south district, and a minor god reports the weather on the nightly news. 

See the whole list of blogs here.

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Part 9

The dragon shook herself. "You can hardly expect me to sit in that device all day without a chance to stretch my wi-" She eyed Sam and her nose flared. "Hello, Cat."

I could suddenly feel the tension sparking in the air. Sam bobbed her head just a nod. "Hello, Lizard."

The two of them stared at each other, both waiting for the other to make a move. I had a feeling the history between them wasn't suitable for the middle of the street. I spoke a little louder than necessary, "Since you're here..."

It took a second, but the dragon shifted her head in my direction. I felt Sam relax a hair beside me. "Since you're here, do you have any suggestions on rounding up gnomes? They're living in the sewers and we'd like to relocate them."

"It would be easier to kill them all."

Sam barked, "Well if you're not going to be useful you can just--"

"She asked for my opinion and I gave it to her!" The dragon snarled.

The two of them glared at each other until I stepped in between them. "Ok, hold the horses. Shit." I looked at the dragon, "This is the only job offer I've got and if I can't pay my phone bill, you're stuck in this little box." I wiggled my phone. "So let's talk relocation."

"You have a perfectly functional job. As Oathbound you have plenty of work."

I waved one hand, "The Queen's not paying me to .... I don't even know--"

The ghost snorted, "The queen sits in the penthouse of Killigan Tower Stock Exchange. She is literally on the top of this century's pile of treasure. What on earth makes you think she's not going to reward you for your services?"

"It wasn't exactly part of the oath swearing and licking I got. You're changing the subject." I pointed at the sea of green gnomes still on their knees. "How do I get them to central park?"

The dragon heaved a great sigh, "Hark! Pests! An Eternal Flame addresses you."

The gnomes whispered, "Dragon."

"Leave this place. Head north by northwest to Central Park and live there until called upon."

The movement was immediate. A green sea of creatures swarmed northward and quite rapidly emptied from the intersection. They left behind the slime and tiny red caps of their squished siblings.

"Thank you." Horns honked as the swarm caused more traffic where they went. At least they went.

"I don't understand your desire for an additional job."

"We'll talk about it later. Can you sit in the phone for a few hours, please? I'll call you when I get home."

The dragon stretched her back end up high and kneaded the pavement with her claws like a cat. "Very well. I shall finish programming my roomba." She jumped into my phone, a movement of wind and pressure that lasted for heartbeats.

The police finally arrived.

Sam put a hand on my shoulder and casually walked me out of the intersection. "Let's get back to the office and let them deal with the clean up. Seems we have some chatting to do, anyway."

That didn't sound good but I walked. I did need a job and despite the ghost's assumption, I didn't really think the Queen had any intention of paying me. It probably hadn't crossed her mind. I tried to scrape green gnome goop off my flats and utterly failed. Sam was splattered with it. The intersection was a mess. Traffic would be snarled for hours. It was only eight in the morning and it had already been a long day.


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Skylife

Photo by karindalziel

The clouds looked like solid ground. Or what Guene imagined the ground looked like. You couldn't stand on them, but Guene leaned on the railing and stuck her foot out under the bar so she could see what walking on the ground might look like. The wind streaked her hair back. She'd never seen the ground, of course, but her grandfather had stood on a mountain top once. He said it was more solid than anything else in the world, with worms in the dirt.

Guene didn't know what a worm was but she wanted one for a pet. She thought she'd like that, anyway.

Mist suddenly obscured her view and Guene pulled her foot back. The airship plunged through a high cloud, cooling her engines and filling the dew collectors. The harvested water trickled through the pipe Guene held onto, falling toward the ship's belly for storage.

It'd be fun to walk on a cloud, Guene decided. They'd be spongy and soft if you didn't just fall right through. Guene turned her face into the oncoming mist just as the airship broke into sunlight. A gap. Fluffy clouds stretched out in front and around the ship. The wind quieted. The sun cast bands of light into the space and Guene ran her quick feet to the front of the ship and found it. Home.

A giant platform suspended with air balloons and rotary props hovered in the cloud cathedral. It was Guene's firm opinion that the floating city was far better than the ground. Even with worms for pets, she would miss being so close to the clouds.

The Deep Desert

Photo By coda

Shameless Dune fanfiction from a writing prompt this morning.


--//--

I must not fear.

Ketar placed his tiny hand palm down on the sand dune and felt the worm. The dune hummed, a low note. He felt his breath quicken.

Fear is the mind-killer.

Ketar jumped to his small feet and ran. He took steady, even strides, perfectly in rhythm. He felt the exact moment the worm caught his vibrations and turned. Here was his test.

Fear is the little death that brings total obliteration.

Ketar slid down the face of a dune and continued his run. Not fast. It was the steady impact that mattered. The regular timing of his steps. It drew the worm like the Spice drew men from the stars.

I will face my fear.

The sand boiled behind him. Ketar broke to the left into uneaven steps. Walk without rhythm, and you won't attract the worm. It surged past him- a wall of plate scale and single-minded hunger. It threw sand; as long as a spaceship and twice as big around.

I will permit it to pass over me and through me.

Ketar ran alongside the worm and set his hook under the edge of a scale. He pulled up, exposing the underside. The worm turned upward, protecting its delicate skin from the harsh desert sand. Ketar hopped up as it turned, his leather-covered feet found purchase on the coarse scale. He set the second hook and leaned forward against them. The worm turned him up to the crest of its circular body.

And when it is gone I will turn my inner eye to see its path.

Ketar leaned rightward, exposing more skin under the left-hooked scale. The worm turned to the right. They flew through the deep desert, faster than Ketar could move. Faster than a horse of the watered plains. Almost as fast as the helicopters that collected the Spice.

Where the fear has gone, there will be nothing. Only I will remain.

Ketar was proud to ride his first worm before his tenth birthday and maintain his people's traditions, but he'd seen where the desert gave way to the plains and the plains to the forest; he knew they were a dying people.

There was something out here. Ketar let the left hook slip free from the scale. The worm turned. He let the right hook slide free. The worm dove into the sand. The boiling desert approached. Ketar leaped rightward and stutter-stepped across the churning sand toward... was it a man? Out here?

It was. A man in a worn but functional stilsuit standing in the middle of the deepest desert. His eyes, even the whites, glowed blue but they did not focus on Ketar as he approached. Ketar had never seen eyes that glowed. The man held his hand out to Ketar who took it.

"You are... Ketar?"

His voice... Ketar had never heard a voice like that. It was low and high at the same time. Wavering in the air. He felt it like a physical thing. Ketar nodded.

"I am blind." The man said in that Voice.

Ketar wrenched his hand free. That was why he stood out here in the desert. A blind man was no good to the tribe, no good as a Fremen.

"The worms will not come. The desert does not want me." His Voice traveled over the desert sands, rattling them like the worm. It was a Voice like a weapon.

Ketar took the man's hand again and looked up at him. He couldn't see. Ketar couldn't speak. It wouldn't work.

"I am.... The Preacher."

Ketar lead him from the desert.

Love Beyond Life

Photo By Natesh Ramasamy

The moon glistened in the silent October sky, sending shadows across the graves. It was almost time. Charlie
found her headstone without any trouble. He'd been here often enough at all hours of the day and night and the larger-than-life Valkyrie standing over her grave was hard to miss. Almost ten years, he'd waited. Moving her to this decrepit place only a week after her death so that she was the youngest body here. He'd taken every precaution. He knew the chant. He was ready.

The fresh graves gave him pause. They had new angels on their headstones. This wasn't part of the plan. They were three rows away from her but that didn't matter. They were new. The bodies fresh. He wrung his hands. He didn't have another cemetery as old as this one anywhere nearby. And he wasn't going to wait another ten years for her spirit to settle in a new place.

His watch beeped once.

It was time. Now or never. He could do it, even with fresh bodies in the cemetery. He'd just have to be careful. Charlie stood at the foot of her grave and opened his hands over the earth. He began to chant.

Charlie thought he saw the moon flash. There was light in the cemetery that hadn't been there before. It condensed in front of him. Her. She tucked her hair behind her ear and turned toward him with that smile he remembered. She was here. Transparent, colorless, a spirit young enough to remember life but old enough to stay dead. Charlie's throat tightened. She was still so beautiful. He wiped tears from his cheeks and tried to clear his throat. His voice was raspier than he expected.

"You look great." She didn't say anything. Charlie tried to smile at her but it was harder than he expected to finally see her and be unable to hold her. "I- uh.. I bring you flowers every week." He made a little gesture at the base of the statue.

She turned to look at put her hands up on her cheeks. She bent, her transparent hands cupped the fresh buds and she made a show of smelling them. Could she smell them? He hoped so. "There's a new middle school down the block, now. Tommy's got kids there. We- uh... we do regular dinners together-- aw, hell, you already know all this." He could see it in her face, that light, indulgent smile she had that said she knew what he was going to say and didn't mind just because she enjoyed hearing his voice. Charlie's throat thickened up again and he had to look up at the sky to keep the tears in. "I miss you," He said. "God, I love you so much."

He brought his eyes back down and froze half-way. There was a stone angel climbing up the back of the Valkyrie, her face set in an eerie expression of serene reflection. A second angel walked around the base of the Valkyrie, he held a stone sword. The new spirits had risen, young enough to remember life, and too fresh to not want it back. Charlie stumbled back a step. The swordsman angel leaped forward, the weapon singing through the air like a heavenly chorus. Charlie only just avoided it. The sword sunk into the dirt of an older grave, disturbing the spirit.

Charlie searched for her but she was gone. The swordsman advanced. The angel on the Valkyrie jumped. Charlie turned and ran. He fell headlong over a low headstone and scrambled up to his feet. The angel landed in front of him. The swordsman advanced from behind. Charlie put his hands up and tried to remember the chant for putting a spirit back down in the grave but all he could think of was how much he'd screwed this up, how he'd never see her again.

Something stone moaned hugely behind him. The disturbed spirit, no doubt. Charlie wanted nothing to do with it. He said a faint apology and ran to the side, across graves and flowers. He heard the two angels follow, dragging the old spirits up with them. He couldn't get out this way, he realized. They'd driven him to the back corner. Charlie spun in place just in time to see the Valkyrie descend from the heavens. She screamed like wind and her sword, twice as big as any other statue in the cemetery, came down on the swordsman angel with vengeful wrath. The stone angel crumbled beneath her. She spun and cleaved the second angel clear in two.

Then Charlie heard her voice. Her voice. It came to him on far away wind and when he heard it, the sound made him cower. "RUN!"

Charlie ran. The Valkyrie- his Valkyrie- destroyed any spirit that followed him.

Extinguished

Photo by Takot

Talia wished the fireflies were real. She could remember running through the reeds of her father's lake-side home trying to bottle them in a mason jar. Talia cupped her hands together. The not-fireflies hovered over her skin, blinking like discordant notes on a piano. Talia dropped her hands. The flies scattered. They burned through the illusion only inches away and everything blinked off. The lake, the reeds, the smell of old wood- it was gone again. Talia's ten daily minutes of mental stimulation were finished.

 The walls of her room were a particular shade of light blue scientifically proven to encourage tranquility. Her chair was vacuum-formed to her exact shape and reclined to a precisely optimal angle. Talia had come to detest blue and reclining chairs. She remained standing until a warning light flooded the room crimson red. Talia sat. The chair reclined. The room turned blue. Above her, a single yellow light blinked. She stared at it while the hive brain connected the socket in the back of her skull. The hive brain breached her consciousness. Talia's last personal thought was of fireflies dying in the mason jar.

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Running With Scissors Pt. 8

Original photo by Steve

RWS is a serial fantasy story that posts every Monday following Danielle, a regular girl stuck in an irregular world where unicorns serve as judge and jury, gnomes have infested the south district, and a minor god reports the weather on the nightly news. 

See the whole list of blogs here.

--//--

Part 8

Gnomes, I learned, liked to mimic. They marched around behind Sam in a konga-line despite the fact that she went out of her way to step on large groups of them whenever she could. There was slime running freely in the street. People around the edges had started catching on, stomping or squishing any of the critters they could reach.

My phone rang. The dragon. I let it go to voice mail. I wasn't too sure killing them all was the best option, but they didn't seem to be running out of numbers either. The stream of small green bodies from the drain had yet to ebb.

They ran around in flowing groups, like schools of fish. They climbed up and over each other without any apparent personal survival instinct. When they started grabbing my jeans and crawling up, I jumped back and kicked them off. "Oh, yuck. Stop!"

They all yelled back in high-pitched chorus, "Stop!"

Someone beside me asked, "Can these things talk?"

I didn't really have a clue. "Sam?"

"Sam!" The gnomes echoed. That was getting old fast.

"They can communicate in larger groups, but individually they're pretty stupid."

"Stupid!"

Yeah, they were stupid alright. "So what are we supposed to do?"

Sam squished a small tower of gnomes. "I haven't figured that part out yet."

"Don't you guys have magic?"

"Melissa does, but these things are pretty impervious."

"Impervious!"

Yeah, ok. I was done with the call and repeat. "Hey, stop squishing them and form a circle. Get in a big circle and herd them together." I grabbed the lady who'd asked if they could talk and put her in place. "You, stand next to her. And you next. Like that, get people in line."

"People in line!"

Hey, more than one word that time, maybe this would work. My phone rang again. I ignored it to nudge gnomes together into the bigger group and at a certain point the mass shifted from enclosed chaos to organized movement like there was a queen bee suddenly running everything. "Hey," I said to the gnomes. "Hey, can you talk now?"

"We can talk!"

"Great. You guys can't stay here in the sewers. First, that's like way nasty--"

"Nasty!"

Maybe this wasn't working.

Sam kicked a gnome into the herd and asked. "What are you trying to do?"

"Not really sure. I thought we could ask them to leave or something."

"Huh. Not a bad plan."

"What do gnomes eat, anyway?"

"Happiness."

I offered her a skeptical look. "From the sewer?"

"I told you they were stupid, right? They thrive on happiness around them."

I crossed my arms. "Ok, so... the park maybe? People are happy there, right?"

"Sure. What are you thinking, follow-the-leader all the way to central park?"

"I don't have a clue."

My phone rang. I answered it. "Damnit, I'm in the middle of an inter--" The dragon jumped out of my phone. She was still a ghost, incorporeal and kinda creamy, but she took up the entire intersection. People screamed and ran. Sam started sideways and flicked her eyes between me and the dragon.

The gnomes all bowed down on the ground. "Dragon caller!"

I sighed.

Part 9 or All Chapters

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