Stories abound. They are everywhere. Some stories are massive and glorious like a monument, a structure of marble and stained glass. Some are humble and simple like a puff of cloud or a puddle of water. And some stories–most perhaps–are somewhere in between, small, but complex, more than first meets the eye…like a feather.
Everyone has stories. Here, I will tell you some of mine.
Astra turned her head to the side, opened her eyes, and found herself lying on warm bed of bouncy green grass that smelled a little like cotton candy.
To her left, she heard the gentle gurgling of a stream. She smiled a little, because she knew she was dreaming. But the dream was so vivid that she felt a stone poking her back, and she smelled the fresh watery earthy scent of the dirt. Birds chirped and cheeped nearby, one of them singing a tune she recognized from music class. She lay in the grass basking in the warmth of the sunlight that was striking her at the perfect angle, feet first, until she heard a voice.
Long ago in times that have now passed into myth, much was different in the newborn world. Moths the size of hawks once fluttered through the sky. The rings on the ringed planet cast a glow upon the face of the new moon. The molten core of the world flowed not only with lava but with magic. And human beings wept tears that were sweet not salty.
It came to pass that two were born upon the earth to the same mother, one right after the other. Twins were rare in those days. The brother was born first, only moments before the sister.Continue reading
I checked the feed from the cargo bay. A dozen steel drums. All of them full. The bay was empty otherwise. Normally that would have irked me, but the promised payment from this one delivery was worth the wastefulness of a near-empty cargo bay. The drums and their contents were pre-approved to pass through every one of the near-hundred checkpoints that we were about to encounter. It would not have been worth the risk of being stopped at every checkpoint for a full reckoning of our cargo if we were carrying our usual assortment of items—living, non-living, legal…not-so-legal. Continue reading
Oddnever adjusted her spectacles, tucked in her wings, rolled open her scroll, and touched the tip of her quill to her tongue. She peered into the mirror that was set in the modest front room of her modest abode within an acorn tree. That mirror had been locked so that she was only able to look through it, not step through it. Oddnever was, after all, different from other sprites. She could be trusted and relied upon. She was capable of focusing for long stretches of time. And she was thought to be too slow to evade the human gaze—likely because she was taller than was typical for her kind. Therefore she was forbidden from visiting the human realm.
While she wasn’t generally mischievous, Oddnever was keenly curious.Continue reading