The Final Monster I Fight

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Digital drawing. Composite of several figures in silhouette. Bottom foreground left and center, two figures from chest up with various missing limbs and digits reach to the right. They are zombies. Bottom foreground right, a figure from chest up holding both hands against their head. Shadows representing gravestones lie at angles behind him. Left moving into frame is a ghostly cloud in which the outline of a face and a hand are visible. Right of frame, sitting on an outcropping, a werewolf howls against a glowing moon. Top center floating in the sky, a vampire wearing a cloak and reaching out. At center from back, a hooded figure from torso up holding a long stake propped over the right shoulder. Upper left corner, a patch of stalactites.

The final monster I fight.  It won’t be long now.

Curses and cures.  Curses and cures.

I’ve tried everything.  Like most people in my position.

Everything reasonable that is.  I didn’t think I’d run out of options this soon.  I only started seeing the signs a couple of weeks ago.  Of course I’ve known it was coming, but I also hoped…I might be one of the exceptions. 

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There Lived A Crooked Creature

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Digital drawing: Portions of a creature. At right, fourteen eyeballs with triangular pupils framed by a mane of shaggy hair and held up by a segmented neck that looks like a series of polyps. The neck extends to the left and out of frame. Along the length of one polyp a mouth that looks like a tear with rows of small sharp teeth. Behind the neck is the creature’s body with cricket-like legs emerging from the side.

“We think the northeast corner of Laundry Room Four is a nexus to a demonic dimension, and one of its native creatures managed to lay a few eggs in our dimension, and now—“

“Whoa! Whoa, slow down. ‘Nexus to a demonic’ what now?” I glanced between the three kids standing before me, blocking my way to the aforementioned Laundry Room Four. 

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One Wicked Warlock

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Digital drawing. At center, the shadows of two figures cast against a stone wall. The figure at left is reeling backwards, arms outstretched, left leg raised and bent, chest pierced with a long spiraling horn, neck entwined with a segmented whip-like tail ending in a stinger. The figure at right stands upright, face in profile, right arm outstretched, holding a vial out above the first figure’s face. The vial is filled with a glowing substance. A green glow appears at bottom right. The left and right frames of the image depict the faint outlines of brickwork.

There is a tall tower to the north.  It is made of stone that looks a common gray from afar.  But I have been close enough to see the stone shift hues, to glitter with the gilded veins of an otherworldly ore, to fade into a pale so utmost as to be nigh invisible.

A warlock once lived there, it is said.  Now the tower is abandoned.

But that does not mean is it safe.

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The Infernal Bargain House

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Digital drawing. An oak tree at center whose six visible main branches spread in all directions, some dragging on the ground, some reaching upward, some reaching outward.  Diffuse patches of green in the background suggest leaves sprouting from the thinner branches.  A thin dark haze lays along the ground. A vaguely humanoid shadow floats beside the tree.

A gray shape darted past me to my right.  I turned to the ragged bushes entangled with dried weeds.  One of the stems shuddered and I heard a rustling.  But the overgrowth was too thick for me to see what was moving around in there.  Back home—my previous home—I would have guessed it was a lizard.  But here, in my new home, it could have been a rabbit.  A wild rabbit.

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The Eye in My Ceiling

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Digital drawing. Central figure, a woman, her top half, seen from below at an angle. She’s facing away standing in a room where the ceiling and parts of two walls intersect at her left, around waist level. The woman wears pants and a t-shirt and her hair in a ponytail. She holds a carving knife in her right hand, held down and behind herself. Her left hand reaches up towards a huge eye in the ceiling. Most of the iris and a small portion of the whites are visible.

I thought it was a reflection at first.  Not the moon.  Some streetlight or something, from outside, getting past my curtains.  I was too lazy, too sleepy to get up and deal with it.  But I do remember thinking it was strange. 

Isn’t the light too bright to be a reflection?  I thought, peeking up at the ceiling.

I do remember resisting the urge to rub my eyes.  I wanted to take a closer look.

Did I just see something floating in the light? 

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Portals and Trailers Are Here

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Hello,

First, thank you for your interest in Storyfeather!

I’m interrupting the regularly scheduled storytelling to present a couple new Pages I’ve just added, to help navigate through the (perhaps daunting) waves of stories crashing all around us.

The Portals page and the Trailers page will present more information about the stories, both new and old.

You can find the links at the top of this post, and on the main menu (to the left on desktop view and at the top of the page on mobile view).

PORTALS

You’ll find buttons that link to the latest podcast episode and the latest short story. Coming soon, you’ll also find links to some combination of the following:

  • Older short stories and podcast episodes showcasing a specific theme (a holiday, a season, a profession, most popular, least popular, my faves, etc.)
  • Random Button results—I’ll click the Random button, see where it leads me, and talk about that story or page
  • About and other

I’ll be adding an update to my About page soon, and have a few plans for…other stuff (she said, cryptically).

TRAILERS
You’ll find trailers of the most recent short stories and podcast episodes. The trailers for the short stories will reveal the genre and tagline. In future, I may add quotes from the story. The trailers for the podcast episodes will include an audio excerpt from the episode set against the episode art. And many of the trailers will include animations, transitions, or other minor visual effects.

Why am I making two different pages, instead of putting all of this onto one page?

The Portals page will serve as a landing page for people who find me from other places on the internet where I’ll be posting my trailers.

For some strange reason, I’ve only been posting trailers on Instagram, instead of posting them here first. Well, partly it’s because I didn’t know how or where to put the trailers on my site until now. I’m also trying out embedding a podcast player at the bottom of both Pages, which will allow visitors to listen to the three most recent episodes directly from the Page.

So, I invite you to take a look at the Portals and Trailers pages. And please let me know what you think.

You can comment below, DM me on IG at @storyfeather or reach out to me through email at nila@storyfeather.com.

Thanks!
Nila

Storyfeather Year 7

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Thank you to everyone who read even a single story. Thank to you everyone who liked or commented. Thank you for your time and interest, and for being a part of Storyfeather, especially Year Seven.

A lot happens in the seventh year stories.  An inventor builds a time machine out of a jukebox.  Three friends do their science project on a forgotten novelty invention, a self-peeling banana. A small team of marine explorers search for a mythical jewel that fell from the heavens. A family is haunted by a demon that is not satisfied with collecting the fallen teeth of their children. And a young drummer commits the crime of “creativity without a license.”

I’ve written over 350 stories now. And I posted my 150th podcast episode (I’ll soon be wrapping up Season Three, in which I’m narrating stories from Storyfeather Year Three).  Year Seven was a worthy challenge, but I’m glad to be moving on.  Sometimes I “cheated” and deviated by just writing a story based on a dream or a notion (and reverse-engineering some kind of prompt from that).  It’s easy to find writing prompts.  There are free apps and sites.  But what I found challenging was to find a prompt with the proper level of specificity.

Storytelling is still my true love, still my destiny, still my path.  And this year in particular, storytelling has been and still is my haven.  And my hope.

Year Eight is on the horizon.  Here’s to seeing what stories I’ll be spinning up (that’s a dorky clue to the theme).  I hope you’ll come along.

I have stories to tell you.
Nila

Evil Edie’s Surprise Demise

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Edith Evilez passed in terror and fright on the night of October 31.  The year is yet to be determined according to one of three profane calendars she might have followed.  She is survived by her faithful, long-suffering and slightly malnourished assistant, her beloved pet hornet, and the partially sentient carnivorous pitcher plant that resides in her otherwise fetid greenhouse.  Sometimes joined forces with Natalia Nogud and Ralph Rotneg.  Gave stingily of her time and talent to the Society of Whisper-mongers.  Was awarded the dishonor of the Pale Medallion for her work with wandering spirits.  Served a partial term as a junior board member for the Pocket Goblin Company.  Held certifications in dental assisting, equine communications, and eyebrow threading.  Known for her collection of historical thimbles.  Her last words, as recorded by aforementioned faithful assistant were, “Perhaps today, Satan.” Edith will be begrudgingly remembered by acquaintances and enemies for her stalwart efforts at frightening children, trodding upon the downtrodden, and the surprisingly delicate madeleines she baked for the summer block party every year.  Edith will be missed by no one.  Her passing being celebrated by all those who value dignity, humanity, and goodness. 

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