by Michael Kingswood “You know Cupid?” The young fairy who asked the question beamed at me through eyes grown wide with amazement. Her cheeks seemed to sink as her jaw dropped open in time with the expanding of her eyelids, and the cute little dimple just above her jaw vanished before the sudden tension in…
Category: Short Story
Suspended Sentence – Part 1
by Silent Draco Part 1 1850, 20 Jun 45, near Eisenach [Soviet Zone of Occupation] “Well. This is rather a dog’s breakfast, eh what?” came dryly in the evening air. “Major Griffin, if you please, not now!” growled the American. “Why, Colonel Sellers, after your time with … staff agencies, you should have some sense…
Revelator
by Michael Kingswood Barnam licked his lips and bent forward. Squinting in the darkness, he could just make out the lock at the bottom of the window in front of him. It looked simple; an easy pick that should just take a minute or two. Too simple. He turned his head to the right where…
A Cabin In The Woods
by Michael Kingswood The wind rushed past, making the thin wooden sides of the tiny cabin Nancy huddled in shudder. A high-pitched whistling advertised its penetration through the cracks around the cabin’s latched door, and she shivered as what warmth there was fled before its incursion. She wrapped the threadbare wool blanket that she had…
The Greenhorn Tree
by Michael Kingswood Once upon a time, far away in the land of Quenith, lived a young man and his brother. Their names were Gideon and Marnik. They lived with their father, Gregor, halfway up the foothills of the mountains on the west side of the kingdom, where they helped their father fell trees and…
Shell Shock
by Michael Kingswood The shell landed three feet away from me. I was crouched—really pressed prone into the dirt with my hands thrown over my head—in my pitiful attempt at a foxhole, but we’d had so little time to get on station and then prepare to repel the oncoming attack that I’d only been able…
Sacred Vows
by Michael Kingswood The fabric of his cassock was heavy brown wool, and even through the Underarmor long-sleeved t-shirt he wore beneath it, Gregory could still feel the itching want to break out all over his torso. Every timed he donned it, he wondered at the endurance of his brothers back in medieval times, wearing…
Liquor Coolers
by Michael Kingswood It was a Thursday night, and the crowd in The Golden Harp was almost non-existent. Just Tim down at the corner of the bar farthest from the door, dressed as usual in plaid flannel and jeans and leaning over his half-full mug of beer like it held some deep dark secret, and…
The Eternal Ride Of Brom Bones
by Michael Kingswood The sun was still shining when Brom emerged from his lair, wherever that was. The brightness of it flared across his vision, whiting the world out and rendering him able to perceive only the faintest of shadows as he took halting steps forward. Vague shapes—the trunks of trees, he thought—loomed all around,…
Terra Infirma
by Michael Kingswood It was Sunday afternoon, and I was sitting under a peach tree atop a hill overlooking the bay. The sun bathed the land in a warm radiance, unblocked by all but a few tiny puffs of clouds that hung in the sky, moving lazily if at all. A gentle breeze carried in…