~ a forgotten tale of prehistoric love
Forty-thousand years ago, surrounded by outcroppings of rock, there lived a small tribe of thoroughly unkempt individuals who spent their time hunting for birds and gambling for slaves. One of those slaves, known only as Limp, was breathing heavily as he pressed himself against the cliff under their encampment and peered at the jagged rocks below.
He tried to ignore the death that awaited him and instead took solace in the thought that his recent capture had given him the chance to prevent his friend from being ordered over the cliff. She was too small and weak to have survived. more
“You. Attend to me.”
Kim Jong Un had almost brushed past me as he walked through the conference room, surrounded by his security men. I’m not sure why, but he stopped and stared at me for a moment before he spoke.
His security men didn’t give me a chance to reply, as one of them took my arm and led me out of the room behind the Supreme Leader. I glanced back at the people in the hall, wondering if I would see them again. more
The chair was large, and as Anhad scrunched down into it and closed his eyes, the world around him felt far away. The sound of car horns faded, and even the cackle of the birds in the tree grew softer and more melodious. Sleep hugged him, and he sighed a huge sigh, a sigh of chocolate cake contentment and chores well done. It might have been the cake, or perhaps the beauty of the tree that waved at him as he slept, but on that particular day, Anhad began to dream, a dream unlike any other. more
~ a short story (4,239 words)
Hiram Hazlacker's last living memory was the sight of the Revenue Men coming down the path to his cave. Hiram called it his Whiskey Cave, even though it was just a bunch of rocks that he’d thrown together to hide his still. The woods of Northern Maine didn’t have too many caves, so a body had to make do with what was handy. more
Zebediah Clump was doomed. Knowing this, his interest in life had taken a sharp left turn into the toilet of resentful destiny. All that was good was flushed away.
He had never been a happy man. Aging, overweight and bald, Zebediah had spent decades drinking from a glass that was half empty. Every bird dropping that fell on his fine new automobile convinced him that Chicken Little was a depressingly prescient bird of death. more
Can an orchid forget?
One might not think so, but this one forgot. She was born next to a thicket of vines in a forest that echoed with the whine of bullets and the screams of men. When she was very young, a boot had fallen on her body, exhausting her in a bewilderment of panic as she struggled to free herself. Eventually, the boot had been dragged away, leaving behind scars and confusion in her delicate heart. more
~ The Chivalry of a Thief in the Time of Charlemagne ~
[a short novella: 13,943 words, approx 25 pages]
He had been shunned and kicked and spat upon. He had been chased and tortured and had lived alone, unwanted and unnoticed by the world. To have a knight and the grandson of an emperor trust him and look to him for help was beyond his imagination. more