Tag: Free Fantasy

Historic Fantasy Short Fiction

Witches

Sylvia drew a square on a piece of parchment.  She and Lisl gazed at it by the light of the room’s one lit candle.  In a way, Lisl thought it was silly, but she wanted desperately to become a witch.  Fourteen was too old to start over.  If she failed she would have to go back to her foster family, and be a servant all her life. Her gaze grew intense.  You will see the shape change, Sylvia had said.  When it changes, tell me what you see.  She had called this a test for mind reading, though what changing…

Serial Fiction Steampunk

A Spider for Aemilia — Part One

A tale in the world system of Steam & Stars. For more airships and dragons, check out Moore’s award-winning novel, Children of Solo! The dirigible cast a chill shadow across the coffee field as it passed between the distant sun and the fecund plants. Balthasar looked up from his notebook. Squinting into the glare created by the backlit balloon, he recognized the winged, blue hammer of House Bronzewater. His cousin’s betrothed had arrived. Balthasar’s stomach rumbled. Tonight, his relatives would host an exorbitant feast in honor of the impending nuptials.   All summer, his graduate student stipend had afforded him only…

Dark Fantasy Serial Fiction

SOIL — Part Five

FIVE Sweet Child of Summer, I mourn for your skin Your cold fingers and Chillblained toes. Mother of the Autmn, When you fell in love You tumbled with the earth And snared its acrid bounty. Hellish Bastard of Winter, Blanch before your betters And return to us our warmth Which you’ve forever stolen. Hard Father of Spring, You stood tall as an oak Sentinel before our home Your leaves soaking up all our woes. Ithica (b. 413). Journaled Year 433. I It is a good night to hunt.  He bounded across the dusky trails round the pathetic Village in the…

Editor's Pick Mythic Fantasy Short Fiction

A Clash of Wind and Lightning

Throughout its history, mountains in this region were more for the hardy and less for the fashionable. Spirits claimed the high places, and durable men and women claimed the places in between. Settlers of the upper valleys eked out a living and raised their families in splendid and harsh isolation, vaguely but persistently aware of the forces above. Few there were who ventured up the steeps though it was known that the highland meadows were good for grazing. Every so often, however, the high fever seized upon a restless, earthbound soul, and up past the crags he would go to…

Dark Fantasy Serial Fiction

SOIL — Part Four

FOUR The bairns speak trilling voices in the night, harsh echoes dancing, afright of the hoary and weighty squalor of unending sleep. Messages delivered nigh, grasped in sharp talons of ravens, crows, pigeons; whether the cock-crows or refuses to show. May our dreams stay safe; for our sleeps are fraught and the days, so dark, as the sun burrows deep, quaffs the Devil’s draught, As if the accursed swill were as naught but cool, clear water, a gentle man’s drink, atop the Great Mothers’ hill. Ithica (b. 413). Journaled year 442. I After living in the temperate embrace of the…

Dark Fantasy Short Fiction

The Talekeeper

The weight of old words, pages unread. I carried it with me in those days. Close to my breast I clutched it under my cloak as if holding myself together. I was filthy-faced and rough-bearded, seldom speaking to another living soul. Carriages steered in wide arcs around me on the road; lanterns dimmed in windowsills when I passed. If I came across a group of children they would scatter upon seeing me. When I left a town, tales sometimes spread of a witch’s thrall shambling by night or a bogeyman carrying a sack of bone and gristle on his back.…

Dark Fantasy Serial Fiction

SOIL — Part Three

THREE Oft I’ve seen you in the night, or a wan image of you. A pale imitation compared to your brilliance and bright devotion by day. Oft my dreams are fraught. Corrupted echos of memories long faded, extinguished. Long have I languished in nightmares beset; they fall upon me, gnashing, dark creatures of the long black night. Though tonight, it shall not be black demon nor red devil that plagues ill mine troubled thoughts. Nay, I see you, my father as you were in my youth. And you visit my dreams, in your arms you carry another. A boy with…

Heroic Fantasy Short Fiction

The First War

Barrin burst from the raging rapids that had battered him pitilessly from one squall to the next, gasping for precious breath. Muscles borne of tireless work and ceaseless training powered him to the bank, where he dragged himself crawling out of the rapids, then further up a slope, to a point where he could finally fall, face buried in the mud and the silt. He sighed, satisfied. Once again, he emerged from battle undefeated. Not all enemies carried swords and spears. Not all enemies wet their small clothes at the sight of the beast he had become. Some enemies were…

Dark Fantasy Serial Fiction

SOIL — Part Two

TWO Why must the wind blow when Earth does not know that the Mourning Sun shines, as my light slowly declines? How many years must I wait for you, so belated, to arrive? For how long must I hate, curdling mine blood that turns to shit like soured butter lodged in the devil’s churn? How many moons must I fester brining within bitter salt? Must I scream my soul’s lament, cast mine curse upon the gods for all they have wrought? Or shall I sing a sweet refrain awake tomorrow and do it all again? Ithica (b. 413). Journaled Year…

Short Fiction Steampunk

I Was Once Yours

Blood: a pearl droplet on the meat of his thumb. Glass: a sliver, imperceptible aside from subtle pressure between two layers of skin. Teeth: parallel to the wound, sucking at the shard. It is no use. Artavan swears amid the percussion of the glass grinder crashing to the floor. A pocket watch in his leather apron chirps: two hours. The blood brings relief that it exists at all. It is him, small red pieces of him, free to bead and run. He checks his reflection in the polished lighthouse lens. A russet smear on his front teeth. He moves his…