Stories

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Story: Gently Down the Stream

Part 5: The Homecoming

A young woman on a mossy bridge looks over a post apocalyptic city landscape.

Cherry floated in a green haze. Her eyes stung and her body screamed for air, but where was the surface? She couldn’t see far in the murky water. It was cloudier on her left side; that must be silt she’d stirred up from the bottom. In the distance on her right, the haze was brighter. She needed to swim that way. Read more »

Story: Gently Down the Stream

Part 4: The Bridge Too Far

A young woman on a mossy bridge looks over a post apocalyptic city landscape.

The mud sucked at Cherry’s feet as she slipped through the thicket of willow and alder. Did she lose the wight that had been calling out her name? If so, it wouldn’t stay lost for long. Somehow, the creature had known she’d taken the old trail south. Surely it would hunt her down again. Read more »

Story: Gently Down the Stream

Part 2: The Guardian and the Wights

A young woman on a mossy bridge looks over a post apocalyptic city landscape.

Cherry ran, covering fifty feet, then one hundred, then two hundred, a thick mat of clover cushioning her footfalls. If the wights had found her burrow, they could have spotted her through the trees or heard her push through the brush surrounding the trail. More wights would converge on her from all directions. Read more »

Story: Gently Down the Stream

Part 1: The Departure

A young woman on a mossy bridge looks over a post apocalyptic city landscape.

Somewhere past Cherry’s ivy-laced window, the wights beckoned. She scanned the thick ferns and pale alder trunks out back, but the hillside held no vibrant colors or alluring shapes. The wind’s rustling didn’t carry bubbling laughter or a hint of melody. If only that meant the wights had left. Read more »

Story

Beyond the Twilight Gate

An ancient arch over a path on a slope

My dearest brother, I know you miss me, but I can’t cure you by telling stories at your bedside. Though you’ve faced the fainting spells and sudden shivers bravely, these symptoms are too stubborn to be soothed with herbal tonics and a strong will. Read more »

Story

Deathslinger

A gray bullet giving off blue smoke

Haru Rake paced the length of her porch as snow drifted down, covering the corral in a soft white blanket. Ten minutes since the clock struck nine, and her farmhands still hadn’t shown. That wasn’t like them. No help for it, she’d have to seek them out in town. A town that welcomed Haru Rake like it welcomed a typhoid outbreak. Read more »

Story

That Time an Angel Tried to Fix Me

Metal feathers

I wasn’t prepared for a robotic angel to invade my living space. It was almost nine p.m., and I was still working in my dining room, staring blankly at the schematics on my monitor. My table was home to a growing population of macaroni boxes and chip bags that I had every intention of eradicating shortly, just as soon as I dealt with my latest creative emergency. Read more »

Story

Another Day, Another Diamond

Outside Joan’s window, humanity ran amok. The far hillside was covered in hobbyists building a mansion from macaroni. In the valley below, gamers fought epic bubble battles in towering tanks. Winding through it all were hikers on the 100-mile trail of ruffled roses. Her window framed the scene superbly, providing a portrait of society no artist could accomplish. Joan didn’t see it. She kept the shades pulled so the best view on Earth wouldn’t distract her from the most boring job there was. After all, it was the only job there was. Read more »

Story

The Shattered Ascension

An explosion in the clouds

Try though she might, Captain Niccasha Fletcher couldn’t regret leaving the war behind. She stood on the bridge of her airship, the Aurora, and gazed out through the main viewport as the vessel steamed north. Golden sunlight filtered through the floating glaciers and ice islands, prisming into rainbows that reached far down into the abyss below. Spectrums of light played across Fletcher’s dark skin, and she sighed. It was clean and peaceful, a welcome relief from the acrid smoke and blazing hulks of war. She frowned. The admiralty had sent her away because she had failed in serving her country. Being grateful for the assignment was cowardice. Read more »

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