by Silent Draco Part I link Part II link Part III Hilda and the old woman sat near the hut door, enjoying the sunlight and more tea. The old woman insisted on serving them both, bringing out her treasured pot of wild honey. “Is right to share with family, grandson and granddaughter,…
Category: Short Story
Life Plus 99 Years – Part II
by Silent Draco Part I link Part II Johannes blinked as they neared her little hut. There was a simple lean-to for a woodshed, but nearby was a small cottage. The babushka chuckled, “well, hut is full with many, and hard to stretch, da? Trade some tea, some coffee, make simples for workers. Small hut…
Life Plus 99 Years – Part I
by Silent Draco A life sentence is complicated by who pronounces it, and with what method … Part I “Husband,” said Hilda patiently, “bitte, why is it that we must return home by train? Could we not have returned by steamer? Business is very good for you. It is early October, beginning to cool and…
Stasis Treatment
by Michael Kingswood Some folks call dead bodies stiffs. And boy, they ain’t kidding. Couldn’t tell you what happened before then or how I got there. But when I opened my eyes on the cold stainless steel of the medical examiner’s exam table and looked up at the bright fluorescent lights shining down on me,…
O’Bannon’s Talisman
by Michael Kingswood Humidity made Carl O’Bannon’s shirt cling to his torso, almost completely soaked despite not being out and about all that long. He felt like he was sweating a river, though in reality it wasn’t all that hot out. It was like an ocean itself was condensing on top of him, and he…
The Shrine of Tulok
by Michael Kingswood Hot wind blew past Thurim, bringing with it the scent of impending rain overtop the other, more earthy odors that seemed to permeate the grasslands he was traversing. It whipped his cloak around behind him as he peered down from the hilltop where he stood. The garment was once bright scarlet but…
Bridge Mending
by Michael Kingswood I’m not a super sentimental guy, but there are times when even I look back on past events through the lens of nostalgia and pine for those long-gone, supposedly simpler times. Never thought an elf would do the same. When they gave the Big Guy the finger over working conditions and left…
Candlemass
by Michael Kingswood Ray knew he was in trouble the instant the lights came on. It wasn’t the two grim faces staring at him, round cheeks and narrowed eyes so similar the two men had to be brothers. No, it was what Ray saw past them that clinched it. A broad window through which he…
Sea Legs
by Michael Kingswood The light from the brass oil lamp hanging from the ceiling above me swirled, sending shadows careening around the room as the lamp swung and twisted about on its chain. The corners of my little room flashed in and out of view as the shadows swam, and I imagined I was somehow…
The Briefcase
by Michael Kingswood The slide of Jack’s Glock locked to the rear, his magazine empty. He reached for another one, only to find his pouches of spare magazines empty. He was plum out of ammo. There were at least two men left of the team that had come after him; the sounds of their movements…