Tag: Short Fiction
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Short Fiction: The Skull
It was a dark night, but not an unpleasant one. The cool temperature only warranted her favorite striped hoodie. Though there was no moon the sky was clear, and the stars provided some light to see by. Klair knew the way through the woods by heart these days, and as she clambered over fallen trees…
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Short Fiction: Geruth the Debt Collector
“Come downstairs, Marie.” “I’m not coming down, Geruth. Go away.” “You can’t stay up there forever. I, on the other hand, can stay down here indefinitely.” “You’ll get bored and go away.” “Perhaps. Or maybe I’ll pretend to go away. Maybe I’ll just go a little way down the street and hide. You’ll come down…
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Short Fiction: Ironclads
In the good old days war tended to stop in the winter. Nobody liked dying in the cold and snow, especially when it was the elements that were killing you and instead of the enemy. These days, when trains could carry troops and supplies alike, it was a year round proposition. It was a much slower,…
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Short Fiction: Wormholes
Sol Gate Control to transport Calypso, you’ve been granted access to the wormhole. Proceed to marker one five three and hold position. We’ve got a Worm coming through and you don’t want to be in the way. Once she’s through you’re number three in the queue. Tack flipped the transmit switch on his control board.…
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Short Fiction: Roland
This short fiction comes to you thanks to a challenge over at Chuck Wendig’s website (terribleminds.com). The challenge was to write a short fiction of 1000 words in ten tiny chapters. So here’s my go at it: 1 “You have died.” The VR chair disengaged and slowly rose from a reclined position to a sitting…
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NaNoWriMo Update Five
Fell a bit further behind today, with only 1155 words. Not in too much trouble yet, especially if I can make it all up on the weekend. “Found any work yet, Lonesome?” Katherine looked past her boots as the Spirit Talker entered the Wayward Son. She’d made the saloon her unofficial headquarters while she was…
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Short Fiction: Lee’s Hollow
The open plains were a difficult place to track a fugitive on the run. Even more difficult when that fugitive was a known spirit talker, able to sway the plains into concealing all trace of his passing. All trace, that is, aside from the bodies of his victims. Gordon Marrow had gotten sloppy, and now…
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Short Fiction: The Guardian
Tormin trudged doggedly through the fog. His feet and legs were almost numb from hiking through the rocky terrain, and he stumbled often. But he would not let himself fall. He’d come too far and endured too much to die here. It had not been mere physical hardship he had suffered, though there had been…
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Short Fiction: Embers
Natsuko loomed over me as I lay defeated on the ground, a pale moon large and full behind her. Orange embers blew past on the wind, remnants of the burning town and – I felt sick at the thought – my former comrades. The same winds that lifted their charred remains teased Natsuko’s long white…