Fantasy
The Tuesday Hum
The sky began humming on a Tuesday. It wasn’t a loud sound, not at first. It was a low, mechanical vibration that settled over the neighborhood like background music no one had selected. It buzzed faintly in the teeth and rattled the window glass in the guest bedroom. By noon, the birds had stopped singing, and by dinner, the clouds had turned a stagnant, bruised purple that didn’t move with the wind.
By Emily Ann Rose2 months ago in Fiction
The Forest That Waits
She frowned at the ground around her. Surely there had been a trail just seconds ago; she had been following something to be this deep in the Forest. But now only sparse patches of dirt showed between thick tangles of weed and bracken, and she could neither find the path nor entirely remember if there had ever been one. A slow unease crept through her. She had come here for a reason. Hadn’t she? Everyone knew entering the Forest was a terrible idea. She was certain she had believed that once. Or had she? There had been a Before. She felt it faintly — lines carved into the ground, walls made of trees but not of trees, voices carried on wind instead of leaves. Something important hovered just out of reach. She gasped. “Ezra!” The name struck like lightning. She ran. Branches scraped her arms as she pushed forward, heart pounding, breath tearing from her chest. No need for a trail now. She remembered the child running — small footsteps disappearing into green shadow, laughter turning to silence. “Ezra!” The word burned in her throat. Not the first time she had shouted it. Her aching legs told her she had run for miles. Her drifting thoughts suggested she had been running longer than a day. The Forest did not answer. A clearing opened before her, sudden and perfect. She stumbled into it and fell to her knees, gasping. The air felt different here — too still, too calm. She sat where she had fallen, trying to gather fragments of memory. A town. A home. Raised voices. The child running. Running into the Forest. She squeezed her eyes shut. In stories, clearings brought answers. She wanted very badly to leave this one. When she opened her eyes again, the space felt almost rehearsed. The clearing was perfectly round. Sunlight fell in deliberate shafts through the canopy above, illuminating jewel-bright birds darting after insects. Wildflowers spread in careful arcs, drawing butterflies in flashes of impossible colour. Everything was beautiful. Everything was wrong. Sweat beaded on her skin despite the gentle breeze. Ezra was not there. But a narrow trail broke through the bushes at the far edge of the clearing. Hope surged through her — sharp and painful. She moved toward it. Then she saw the light. Off to one side, beyond the trees, a brightness shone — harsher than the clearing’s glow, like early morning breaking through fog. The edge of the Forest. Her breath caught. If she stepped toward it, she could leave. She felt it — freedom waiting just beyond the trees. Had Ezra already escaped? Was the child waiting there, safe? Or had Ezra gone deeper instead? The clearing held its silence. The same birdcall rang out — clear, identical, as if repeating a note long practiced. She hesitated. If she left now, she might never return. But if Ezra waited beyond the trees… She bit her lip, gazing toward the light. Then she turned back toward the trail. A few steps beyond the clearing she stopped again. Footprints marked the mud. She crouched. They overlapped each other — worn deep into the earth, not one path but many, layered together as if walked again and again. Her breath faltered. Slowly, she placed her foot into one of the prints. It fit perfectly. They were hers. And they were old. A cold understanding brushed against her mind — something vast and terrible and almost clear — but it slipped away before she could grasp it. The trail stretched ahead, waiting. She swallowed and stepped forward. The trees closed behind her with quiet patience. Moments later she paused again, uncertain. She frowned at the ground around her. Surely there had been a trail just seconds ago… Somewhere deeper in the Forest, the same birdcall echoed once more — unchanged, unhurried. And the Forest waited.
By Mina Carey2 months ago in Fiction
Beginners Luck: Outsiders 4
When the two Derboul had stopped just before cresting the hill, they could not have picked a worse spot. The place they stood was the very place Kwernoss had used to range his bow and arrow skills. Several large deer had fallen in that very spot. Letting out a long slow breath, Kwernoss notched his arrow and drew his bow back waiting for the right moment. He felt the empowerment of his masks eye emblem steady his hand and even help guide his adjustments in the fine muscles to place a killing shot on the slightly larger of the two warriors.
By Everett Scaife2 months ago in Fiction
Beginners Luck: The Outsiders 3
Trueno felt his left arm be torn from his body by the force of the harpoon launched at him. He felt his head spin in shock from the pain and sudden blood loss now draining out of him. In this small moment of eternity, Trueno thought of the words he had said. He had never read a book in his life, but somehow in his moment of madness the words had flowed through him like an echo of long-ago ages. He felt that the words were a curse, a biding of fates somehow. He breathed in and smelt iron, dirt, and saw seagulls fly overhead. Reaching across himself he grabbed his own severed arm and yanked it loose from the cobblestone wall. With his last bit of energy he could muster, he threw the limb and harpoon at the beast that was walking towards him. The beast back handed the flimsy attack and the limb arced over its shoulder, clattering to the ground behind him.
By Everett Scaife2 months ago in Fiction
Beginners Luck: The Outsiders 2
Migoene, Myene, and Gettar stepped forward and pushed themselves through the energy barrier that glistened around the marble cube. The energy washed over them, making their skin prickle with slight discomfort. The stark contrast of lush vegetation and open air from the brutalist cathedral would have been disorienting if they had not been prepared for this very moment. They entered with no weapons wearing only their armor and masks. In symbolic tradition of the first violent encounters with humanity, they would only use weapons that they took from dead humans. The Derboul race used technology and weapons, but humanity had been cunning their advancements of war. Being physically smaller, more numerous, and technologically advanced had always been in the favor of humanity. When the Derboul understood and turned humanities weapons against them, the slaughter on both sides grew to literal astronomical levels of death and destruction.
By Everett Scaife2 months ago in Fiction
Beginners Luck: The Outsiders
Migoene arose from his slumber feeling the weight of the day before him. Sitting up on his bottom arms, he swung his legs down the side of the bed. With his top arms he rubbed his six eyes gingerly and then slapped his face. Standing up he stretched his body to his full height of two and a half meters tall. He marched forward to a mirror and examined his dark gray skin and white hair for any flaws. Each of his eyes were able to observe his reality from the electromagnetic spectrum and beyond. Starting with heat, he then switched to electrical field, and finally visible light. Everything was in perfect order, as was his duty as a Steward Initiate.
By Everett Scaife2 months ago in Fiction
Beginners Luck Intro: 5
Fluke watched as the Librarian went to the shore and sat down in a meditative stance, on the surface he appeared relaxed as a shaman, yet his muscles and breathing exuded the tension of a compressed spring. The sky shifted again in its colors, now only red remained, casting a brilliant crimson across the island. In any other circumstance such colors would be picturesque, but with the knowledge that every change meant death was on the horizon, the severity of this moment could be felt in Fluke's bones.
By Everett Scaife2 months ago in Fiction
Beginners Luck: Intro 4
The Librarian and Fluke were overwhelmed by the presence of the goddess. Everything about her begged them to give her their attention, but the sharpness of her teeth, and the fierce lines hidden behind the exterior beauty whispered warnings of consequence. The deity raised an eyebrow and relaxed her weight onto a hip, crossing one arm across her waist and placing her other hand across her mouth to stifle a laugh.
By Everett Scaife2 months ago in Fiction
Beginners Luck Intro: 3
Jogging to keep up with the Librarian, who was now making his way towards the peak that flattened into a plateau, Fluke had thousands of questions but no words to articulate his curiosity. There at the peak, was two stones for sitting, and an old weathered treasure chest. The Librarian let out a prolonged sigh and sat on one of the stones, gesturing for Fluke to take the stone opposite of him. As Fluke sat he took a quick 360 degree look at the area round the village. They were on an island, forest towards the rising sun. A stream ran from the hills down to the ocean, and on the opposite side of the forest was what looked like a stone field and quarry. The sky was a canvas of magnificent colors, painting an idyllic morning coast. Racing across the sky was what looked to be a glowing ripple of magnificent colors changing from blue, yellow and a hint of red. They slowly churned off into the distance beyond the horizon, where in the distance there appeared to be dark rain clouds forming.
By Everett Scaife2 months ago in Fiction
