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3,573 Years Before the War
Magdaline ran her pink lacquered nails through her messy curls in an attempt to tame the ink black mass before forcing its submission to a well worn scrunchy. Barely succeeding in that task, she returned to her previous work. Scattered across the polished stone workbench in front of her were pages upon pages of alchemical…
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Soul-Bonded
The battlefield was saturated with thick purple blood. Iridescent puddles of it seemed to seep out of the ground, marking where bodies had lain mere hours before. Sarta scuffed at the ground with her boot, kicking at the one small patch of dry ground she could find. Sarta took one last look at the desiccated…
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The Prophecy
A glowing golden strand stretched between the gnarled spinning wheel and the loom. Knotted hands deftly spun the thick, golden yarn. Slightly younger hands, quick and experienced, wove the strand into the tapestry. Finally, at the end of the loom the youngest pair of hands sniped the strands of yarn at the end of the…
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Dark Prospects
The starship Torres-9 was magnificent. Her hull shone from tip to tail, and her interior was meticulous. There was no wasted space, no room without a function. The engine bay and mechanical systems were easily accessible for repairs. All-in-all, she was perfection. Blink, the resident mechanic for the Torres-9 crew, never tired of looking after…
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The Changing
The wind whistles through the trees warning predators to take the night off. The silver glow of full moon breaks through cracks in the tree’s protective cover scattering beams across the forest floor. Just below the wind you can make out a lower howl, not quite animal, and not quite human. A chill floods the…
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Temptation of the Wild
Emelia Jones was a precocious young girl. She often skipped out on her lessons, getting bored easily as she picked things up quicker than her siblings. Her home, Klintok Manor, was situated in the midst of the most beautiful scenery. Through the wrought iron gate, she could make out the wildlife in the deep green…
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Timesink
The first time I stepped into the theater I knew something was amiss. The old stadium style seats were covered with moth-eaten velvet upholstery and the distinct musty smell of mold permeated the area. I tightened my toolbelt subconsciously. Something about this theater made the hair on my arms stand on end, highlighting my unfortunately…
Finite Fiction:
A short stories blog
Join me for some short and satisfying segments of sci fi and fantasy!
Finite Fiction 