The Message: Part II

Photo by Felix Rostig on Unsplash

“I’m old; I’m not deaf,” Ilka shouted into the shroud of darkness. “I’ve waited while mother moon shifted in her course, and still, you stumble and rattle in the dark. I’m too old to stand for so long. Besides, your deafening stealth is irritating me. Show yourselves already.”

A whoosh sounded. A lone torch flared, followed a minute later by the sound of rushing air and a circle of lit torches, Ilka and her fire at the center.

A man, dressed in the uniform of the emperor’s special elite forces stepped forward, holding the first-fired torch. He stood at the base of the rise that flanked Ilka’s hut, one leg thrust forward, his weight resting on his hind leg, impressive and confident.

Reflections from the flickering flames glittered on the numerous medals covering his chest and the heavy metal bands encircling his upper arms. He stepped forward and cleared his throat. “Ilka, last name unknown. You are charged with high treason against the empire, and blasphemy against His Most Exalted Imperial Majesty, Emperor Nyxidor.

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The Message – Part One

I wrote this flash fiction piece a few years ago and decided polish it a bit and share it here. It runs just under 1500 words so I have split it into two posts. It takes place in an imaginary world called Nyx. At some point in the future, I plan to begin writing more about Nyx and the people there. I hope you enjoy this tiny morsel.

Photo by neida zarate on Unsplash

Stars, like splatters of incandescent paint flung across the night sky by some mythic being, flicker. Wisps of mare’s tail clouds play hide and seek with the full and radiant silver moon; draping, encircling, enfolding, enshrouding the lustrous face as if envious of her glory. Darker still they whisper to one another in the cosmic silence of the night sky. Let her hide her face so none may witness what is to come.

Continue reading “The Message – Part One”

The Speed of a Thought

Photo by Kevin Lanceplaine on Unsplash

Have you ever thought about how much Americans eat out or bring home takeout? Whether we sit down at a fancy restaurant for a slow dining experience or grab a quick something from a fast-food chain or a pizza place to bring home and devour while streaming a movie, Americans love the experience of consuming food we don’t have to make ourselves.

Personally, I am not a fan of fast food. I won’t get into the pros and cons of “healthy” or “unhealthy” here. That’s not what this post is about. What I have a problem with is the “fast” part of fast food. It is a quirk of my nature that I need time to make decisions. Give me a menu and let me sit and ponder for a few minutes as I peruse the offerings. In that situation I am content and calm. Place me in a car as we crawl up to the menu of a fast-food establishment and, before we even reach the sign, my mind blanks.

The pressure to decide what I want to eat while others are waiting on me is too much and I freeze, then tend to make horrible choices I regret. For the longest time my husband couldn’t understand what happened to me anytime we got into one of those lines; whether it was for McDonald’s, Arby’s, Wendy’s or whatever, I would turn into an indecisive shrew. In time, I set the ground rules: NEVER DO DRIVE UP WITH ME.

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A Haunting We Will Go

Photo by Nathan McDine on Unsplash

Returning to my theme of a couple posts ago, I have chosen to share another “paranormal” adventure. This is a flash fiction piece I wrote a while ago. It is told from the perspective of a demon. Following in the footsteps of The Screwtape Letters by C.S. Lewis, this begins with a senior demon speaking to younger demons but as his story progresses, he falls into the memory. I hope you enjoy this “light-hearted” look into a haunting.

The ghost hunter team arrived late this afternoon. I knew they would come. The humans who bought the house six months ago planning to bring it back to its original glory are afraid to set foot in the front door. I must share my technique; you will appreciate this my fellow junior demons. It’s an old trick, really. I convinced them that I was the sorrowful ghost of a past tenant, trapped here by some tragic event. That I was benign. Then, when they thought they understood and had developed a connection with me, I went all nasty vengeful spirit. You know, throwing things, pushing humans downstairs, leaving nasty, burning scratches. Fun stuff.  

Oooh! It gives me the chills just thinking about it. Well … it would if I could get chills. But since I’m a demon, I don’t have a physical body … currently. But that’s another story.

It is quite easy to scare humans—they are so impressionable—but remember, we must obey the rules. And rule number one is: never reveal the truth of what we are.

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Shadowsprite and Lightfoot: The Beginning

Photo by YIFEI CHEN on Unsplash

Good day everyone! In this post I thought I would share the first paragraphs from my current Work In Progress. Another fantasy, the story takes place in an alternate reality where Shape Shifters, Shadow Shifters, aelfs, dragons, unicorns, giants, and other creatures inhabit a realm that links to the human realm through a portal. Welcome to the Lands Between. I hope you enjoy this tiny foray into a new Faithful Fiction story. Blessings! C.S. Wachter

“Keagan Stormdweller. Approach.” King Nettlespore waved his son forward as he descended the shadow-wreathed steps from where his throne sat in darkness. Raised braziers set on either side of the wide stairs flickered with anemic light. Struggling to combat the gloom, they filled the air with oily smoke. “I have a most important task for you.”

Keagan strode up the center passage between flanking rows of his father’s personal guard, his spine straight, his chin up. Narrow, deep-set windows cast three stripes of radiance across the wide hall. As he walked through the first band, dim light illuminated Keagan’s tall, muscular form before he plunged back into darkness. Thrice he moved from shadow into light, the sun’s rays needling his eyes. He blinked back tears and pulled in steady breaths, then schooled his features into his standard arrogant expression as he moved past the final shaft of light, his gaze shifting over the courtiers in attendance. No one of significance, just the normal sycophants looking to lick the king’s boots. Annoying but not worth his time.

Continue reading “Shadowsprite and Lightfoot: The Beginning”
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