Argath bent his hulking body over the bench. His thick fingers were bent to the work of shaping the small pins down into place. They were to hold the ruby in its mount. The dull red gem looked like a large drop of blood frozen in motion. It contrasted with the gold wirework on the pommel.
Had a hard time concentrating today. I decided to turn that into writing about a way I will sometimes try to fight writer’s block and how weird it is. I managed to write something which feels like a victory.
This one was odd because I feel like I want to write more on it but I am not sure. I liked the notion of figuring out what to swear on.
Day 5 of my Flash Fiction February entries. The suggested prompt was “Challenge” so I went with a story about a climb in my Space Gods setting I keep revisiting.
My wings stretched as far as I could reach. I was trying to extend my glide, so I could make it to the city without too much work. I could have flapped my wings and gained altitude but that is exhausting and I was already tired. The ground was a dark blur below me like uneven ink spilled on a page. The noise blotted anything else out but my thoughts.
More flash fiction. This time I was going for more of a romance scene which is not my usual line. It is romance with superheroes. I am still a nerd.
“Time is an illusion.” Was the first words he said to me. His bright eyes smiled mischief and too much of time showed on his face. The robes marked him as an elder priest in the golden temple.
A bit of Flash Fiction set in space.
This is the first part in a novel I have been working on. I am sure it will go through rewrites and revisions but I am posting some of it here. This is the story of how my post apocalyptic setting came to be. I am trying to be more comfortable about sharing my fiction. That is easier said than done.
The story is told in an epistolary version. It just seemed to be the right way to go. I am comfortable writing that way. That may have to do with writing a bunch of game text. I will post the second part next month.
This is a short tale I wrote as a writing project a while back. It is a retelling of an old Russian folk tale. It is interesting to take and old story and reframe it. I did some further polishing before posting it. I hope people like it.
Come closer, says I. It is time to tell the story of Vasilisa, the Beautiful, and of her terrible light. It is time to tell of her journey and troubles, of the old crone, Baba Yaga. I will not bite, my children. Not yet, at least. This is time for a story. There is time enough for you to land in the cook pot later, yes.
