#short-stories — Public Fediverse posts
Live and recent posts from across the Fediverse tagged #short-stories, aggregated by home.social.
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… perhaps worth saying that this #podcast is also available from #ApplePodcasts #Spotify and so on…
#books #reading #writing #fiction #comics #ShortStories #translation #blog #bookstodon
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For Takiguchi Yūshō and the translator Jesse Kirkwood, fiction is a matter of listening to what the story has to say:
https://www.fictionable.world/podcasts/takiguchi-yusho-jesse-kirkwood-peppermint-fiction-story-voice
#books #reading #writing #fiction #comics #ShortStories #translation #blog #podcast #bookstodon
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The suspense is killing me.
#writerslife #authorlife #amwriting #amsubmitting #sff #horror #shortstories #SubmissionGrinder -
Requiem of the Villagers: Story
1) Prologue ~LOU URIRY IL CATARRE IOM~ (Overture ~Think only of the happiness~)
A stranger visits Eastern, a forest-village based inside DORMA. Ashuton Karrucci created Dorma, the forest that surrounds the floating city of Dragosaya, sometime before his capture and imprisonment aboard the Newrama. He created this forest when he forged a single mind with his Forest Dragon, and with that temporary dragon form he made Dorma into a powerful forest. Dragosaya and it’s forest became the pinnacle of Middle Tuscany.
A tourist—a happy foreigner—wandered into the Dorma forest. This person happened upon a town where the inhabitants didn’t pay much attention to the stranger except Bridget and Yuma—two women influenced by the Red Sky event—and their visiting cousin Corey.
2) Red Sky
Bridget and Yuma allow the tourist to stay at Red Sky, their hotel (named after the event). The tourist asks about Dragosaya and an elderly man tells him about the Dragon in the Forest. The tourist, being a treaure hunter and seeker of all things dragony, descides to go looking for the dragon boy.
3) Dragon on the Road
A young man encounters a teenage African walking along the dirt path. He offers her a ride in his truck and she directs him to Dorma. He’s reluctant at first because of the floating pillar-city in the sky, but he follows the path into the forest.
4) Forest Boy/Dragon in the Forest
The tourist becomes injured in his attempt to infiltrate the forest. A young boy finds the tourist and tells him he protects the trees and plants seeds in his free time. The tourist does not know the boy is a dragon god in the guise of his younger self.
The villagers gather round a fire and with the help of the villager’s songs, the boy is able to heal the tourist. The tourist is afraid of the boy at first, but warms up to him and the villagers. He told the tourist to think only of happiness and to never fear the dragons anymore. The war was over and the wounds were clean.
5) Prayers in the Wind
The truck driver comes back to the village to see the African girl, whom calls herself Pop. She wonders about her cousin, Sparky, whom is residing in Little Delaney. The truck driver tells her his name is Roy and that his twenty-seventh birthday was today. Pop then told him he was born on the perfect day: today is the day of the Giving Festival. Everyone gathers in the town square where they pray to god. She wanted humans to believe in the High Divine.
The tourist and Roy meet during the festival parade. The dragon boy, Ashuton, throws autumn leaves everywhere to show his appreciation for the seasons.
6) Ghosts of the Snow Village
Roy heads back to Turino and heads for the nearest bar. He meets his friends, gets drunk, and tells them about Eastern. He also spills the beans about Ashuton being there, and this catches their interest. They were not the only ones to hear of this. An operative for the struggling CIA relays this information to the Leader, where he deploys three teams of CIA operatives to head into the village.
The tourist spends the night in Ashuton’s forest, where the boy sings a short yet powerful song about Mischevous.
“I seek and I sought. I came and I wrought.”
Those words from the song stuck with the tourist, mostly because they were confusing. Our tourist falls asleep under a flowering crape myrtle tree.
Mischevous’s ghost talks to Ashuton, referring to him as cousin. He tells him about the impending attack on the village and that Leader’s true intentions are hidden from his team. Mischevous tells Ashuton that Eastern will end up like Tind.
7) The Morning After
The day opens with a bang, a literal bang. A grenade destroys Bridget’s shop and the forest is set ablaze from the explosion. Ashuton, shifting into his dragon form, attacks the group of CIA agents. Four of them disappear from the battle. The villagers and the forest fight back with Ashuton and they fight hard, warding them off, but an explosion throws him far away. And thus begins Harmony Fyalsis.
8) Aftermath
After the disappearance of their King, the villagers try to continue life without him. The tourist decides to stay in the town and discovers an egg that Ashuton left. He brings it to the village and tells the villagers to have hope. Their Rivve left them with a successor. Pop and Roy pray and throw autumn leafs over the dragon egg to show their appreciation for Ashuton and the ever changing seasons. When the egg hatches and gains a human form, it takes the might of the villagers to care for this one child.
Author Notes: this was inspired by Haruka Shimotsuki’s music. There are a few Shimotsuki references in there…I think. I’m a big Shimotsuki fan and her music never ceases to amaze and inspire. Her music has helped me craft stories in TSODR’s early days. Should I release those stories to the official website? I don’t know.
Rate this:
#Dragons #ShortStories #literature #books #reading #Poetry #Anime #Dragon #Fantasy #ScienceFiction #Writing #Ashuton #Fiction #shortStory #Pop #Royberg -
Returna (Requiem of the Villagers)
“They couldn’t have come at a better time. I regret leaving them but my time as Forest Boy is over. I left one of my unborn hatchlings with them so they can move on from my disappearence. I enjoyed Dorma Eastern and its people. The festivals were fun and the air is sweet. However I must return to Rome, for I am needed there. I left Dorma Eastern in capable hands…I think…”
—Ashuton Karrucci (Dorma Eastern Forest Boy: 7 months)Rate this:
#Anime #Ashuton #Dragons #Fantasy #Fiction #literature #Poetry #reading #ShortStories #Writing -
Afterlife (Requiem of the Villagers)
Lost and without guidance, the townsfolk try to live
They try to live life without him
Their Rivve—precious boyking—was still missing
The tourist returns to that flowering crape myrtle tree
And resting where the tourist once sat was a blue egg
The tourist starts to laugh as he/she touches the egg’s smooth shell
It would take at least three people to lift that particular egg
So he/she rushed into town, calling upon the aid of Pop and Roy
When they deliver the egg to it’s home in the village,
Pop gathers everyone in the town square
She and Roy throw cicada shells and autumn leafs
Just like Ashuton had once done
“Will you stay with us?” Yuma asks the tourist.
“I don’t know, I kinda like it here. I think I will stay.”
“that’s perfect! I’ll get the lemonade!”
Months pass by as the egg grows and the life inside it matures
When the cold chills of winter whisk by to pick up everyone’s offerings
The egg shell begins to crack…Rate this:
#Anime #Ashuton #Dragons #Fantasy #Fiction #literature #Poetry #reading #ShortStories #Writing -
The Morning After
Bridget’s Coffee Shop extension of the Red Sky was up in flames
A strange ball had been thrown inside and exploded, breaking wood and tile
The villagers fled for the Bunker as their leader directed
Ashuton, choosing to fight off the group of agents, stayed behind
When the tourist witnesses the dragon battling bullets and grenades, he stepped in
With the villagers, Roy and his friends, the tourist picked up hard stones to throw
The forest fought with them, utilizing the dragon’s soul to create it’s own creature from wood and bark
Ashuton fought with his fire and ice breaths, using all of his bodily resources
Roy and his friends joined in with their shot guns, crippling three of the intruders
When the situation became dire, Tulip unclipped a grenade
The teams scattered and the villagers fled once more
Ashuton’s body weakened
And the explosion threw him into the far south of the forest
The tourist watches in shock, unable to understand what they sawRate this:
#Anime #Ashuton #Dragons #Fantasy #Fiction #literature #Poetry #reading #ShortStories #Writing -
Ghosts of the Snow Village (Requiem of the Villagers)
The truck bobs back and forth as it departs for Turin
At the nearest bar, Roy excitedly converses with his closest friends
His words leak truth about Pop, about the Praying Festival
And about Eastern itself
“I had so much fun! You should have seen it! You should have been there!”
“We can probably still make it! It’s just an hour drive away! I’ll tell Ashuton you’re with me.”
Sitting in the far corner, listening to their conversation,
was a ghost clad in modern black
she departed, her dress swaying with her
her heels clicked the cobble with every step
and Tulip met her Leader in the alleyway
Tulip pleads to him, “We can save ourselves. We can salvage whatever we have left. Ashuton is within our reach.”
She was nearly begging him for the O.K to go
He thought about it—not long—and knew it would be a daunting task
But the desires were O-so-sweet
Our tourist would never fall for such a thing
Right now our tourist is snug and warm,
Sitting under Ashuton’s crape myrtle tree
It’s flowering blossoms give off warm heat
And attract a parade of moths
“I can sing a story, you know,” says the forest boy, Ashuton, “I’ll sing one for you. This one is about my cousin Mischevous. He was a dragon shifter like me, but he could never hide that tail of his.”
He took a deep breath and sang
In the closed womb of High Glassian
The inhabitants fought, forever entombed by emotions
My dear cousin began questing to change that
For the equality of dragons and dragon shifters
He always said,
“I seek and I sought.
I came and I wrought.”
The last lines stick with our tourist, whom does not know how to interpret that into simple english
When the calm passes, the tourist falls asleep under the tree
Ashuton stays awake, not feeling tired yet
A ghostly child approaches Ashuton
With a cutesy laugh, it says, “you should watch out tomorrow?”
And the forest boy merrily replies, “Mischevous! Why are you here and what do you mean?”
“Um…Leader is coming with three teams. He wants to kill you!”
Ashuton drew back, “that’s absurd!”
Mischevous shook his head, “nuh-uh. I heard him.”
The ghost sat beside Ashuton and he couldn’t help but ask, “how are you able to contact me so easily?”
Mischevous shrugged, “I’m on break.”Rate this:
#Anime #Ashuton #books #Dragons #Fantasy #Fiction #literature #Mischevous #Poetry #reading #ShortStories #shortStory #Writing -
Prayers in the Wind (Requiem for the Villagers)
The truck bobs to and fro on the bumpy road He holds his hand out, catching the breeze The shining forest comes into view and above him, Far above him, Is the grand city Deeper into the forest A village comes into his view Smelling the clean air, he sees the dragongirl he met on the road She tells him her name—Pop—and wonders about her cousin As the townsfolk prepare, he asks her, “what is happening?” And he tells her his birth celebration is today “Oh, what joy!” she says “You can celebrate your birth age with us!” Today is the Giving Festival “Before the Festival of Gods begins I want to pray with you, to wish you well.” Stepping out of the cottage, the stars already lining the sky The sweetness of night shrouds our village home as the candles are lit Bemused by the music, we dance in harmony Hand in hand, twirling and shaking and jigging to the music I proudly display my smile to you Look, Roy! Pop is smiling at you. I give my wine and cheese to you and everyone else People begin praying in their own ways The purpose of the festival is fulfilled Yet the drinks and cheese make everyone woozy in the head With their ever-present glee, the villagers still pray and sing The little dragonboy throws autum leafs everywhere As a way of showing his gratitude to the seasons We all throw our things into the sky We hope the wind gobbles them up And transmits them into the High Divine Let us dance some more! Let’s make promise bracelets To hold our wishes, thoughts and memories And to show our love Let’s try it, Roy. The festivities continue into the night And we cannot help but dance some more around the fire The boys and girls of the village bring fruits and autumn leafs Throwing them to the sky, they too wish that the wind will gobble up their offerings The girls and boys throw their offerings to the sky And watch as they land on the ground Everyone claps as the music becomes hectic It’s a hecticness that will benefit the fun! Let’s ensure we still continue these festivals next year You will come again, right…Roy? We all sing the songs that hold our joy To portray our feelings through our voices It’s a wish that the stars will know When the night subsides You are sleeping with your mouth wide open What do you dream, Roy? What do twenty-seven-year-olds dream about? Their current situation? Well, I hope your dream creates an intricate web of joy Yours truly, your dreams truly, The music continues until there is nobody left And we leave. Tomorrow we awake for the festival’s second day. This time we throw cicadas instead of autumn leafs The process is repeated in this tiny closed-off town What fun~!Rate this:
#Anime #Ashuton #books #Dragons #Fantasy #Fiction #literature #Poetry #reading #ShortStories #shortStory #Writing -
Dragonboy in the Forest/Forest Boy (Requiem of the Villagers)
this is old writing but still canon.
QUECCI SA DRACON HIRSH IRY/
Because the Vessel wished it so/
LOU URIRY IL CATARRE IOM/
Think only of happiness/
Speaking the last words of those before him, he wished many blessings upon Eastern
He said, “the citizens will take the laws of this village.”
“And with my essence, I bring the blessings of tree seeds.”
The stars line the eternal moons, the voices join beside the fire
The flames hear the wishes of the villagers and spread their inflammable creation
Rivve, “King of Eastern.”
Down that forest path
Speaking in fragments, he spoke unlike the inhabitants
“I will sing the fragmented story of life,” he says to any visitor that comes by.
“Do not shy away from me, I am peaceful and I will help clear your wounds,” he says.
With our powers joined (magical or not) we turn into cicadas
Freshly molted
Because I wished for it/
I want you to think only of your happiness/Rate this:
#Anime #Ashuton #Dragons #Fantasy #LoreSong #Poetry #reading #ShortStories -
This week, Mike Allen and Jordan Kurella read us frightening tales of evil and transformation. You can still watch this Story Hour—and many others, some featuring these same authors! #Bookstodon #StoryHour2020 #ShortStories #ShortFiction #AuthorReading #Horror #HorrorFiction #MikeAllen #JordanKurella @mythicdelirium https://youtu.be/LLg-O7It1Yw
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‘Stunned and shocked’: Ingrid Horrocks wins top prize at New Zealand’s Ockham awards for her fiction debut https://www.theguardian.com/world/2026/may/14/ingrid-horrocks-ockham-awards-short-story-collection-new-zealand #NewZealand #AsiaPacific #WorldNews #AwardsAndPrizes #Books #Fiction #Culture #ShortStories
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It's Book Quote Wednesday and the word is WANDER. Unworldly genius Philip Devere has his own idea of what it means to be PC compatible, arf. From my sf&f story collection, JEAPES JAPES. #bookqw #shortstories https://www.benjeapes.com/index.php/writing/jeapes-japes/
Hear me read a longer version at benjeapes.substack.com.
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For we are on the cusp of annihilation, some jackass thought it prudent to launch into earth's sub orbit 500,000 metric tons of anti-tungsten, at last report the power supply maintaining containment is failing, and there is no way to fix it, latest estimates put total containment failure in less than 36 hours, there is neither time to evacuate the planet nor burrow miles into the earth to relocate humanity, currently all data centers are uploading as much of human history to satellites assumed to be clear of the blast zone, in the hopes that if any visitors ever approach they will learn of humanity, as we will no longer be in existence, remember folks, antimatter is all fun and games until it goes wrong;
You can encourage my continued useless #poetry, creativity and expression of self, #commentary, random thoughts, #philosophy and ideas, and by doing so your helping to feed, house and clothe a #disabled man living in #poverty, $5-10-15 It All Helps, via #cashapp at $woctxphotog or via #paypal at paypal.com/donate?campaign_id=…
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Story Hour tiptoes back to the spooky side with two returning favorites! Mike Allen and Jordan Kurella slink back in to read us horrors. Join us Wednesday at 7:00 p.m. PDT! #Bookstodon #StoryHour2020 #ShortStories #ShortFiction #AuthorReading #Horror #HorrorFiction #MikeAllen #JordanKurella @mythicdelirium https://www.storyhour2020.com/
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my one and only (a fairytale of sorts)
When Maggie was a child, she had a little dog, a dog she loved more than anything else in the world. He was her greatest comfort, her confidant, her friend—and the warmest buffer between her and her warring parents. When no older than four, she’d often sit on the front steps of the family home with the black and white pup at her side, doing her best to ignore the carrying on of her parents inside. For as long as the commotion lasted, she and her pup would remain planted there, staring out at the quiet row of houses on the opposite side of the street. From time to time, as a way to console him and herself, she’d pat his head gently or stroke his silky coat. When she was a few years older, she began reading to him from storybooks she got from the library, promising that one day they too would go off on a happy adventure. And always when Maggie looked into the dog’s glowing brown eyes, and he looked steadily into hers, she knew with all her heart that he understood. So when only a few years later, before her eighth birthday, he passed away suddenly, it was as if an essential part of her own being had gone with him. But where had he gone to? she wondered. Would she ever see him again? Perhaps in heaven? Her parents tried but couldn’t answer these difficult questions to her satisfaction. Her father said instead that they could go right away to get her another dog, but that made Maggie throw herself onto the bed and cry. Her mother suggested a cat, but that made Maggie cry even more. But then time passed, as it always does, slowly at first, and then in a rush, and so it was that eventually, Maggie understood her dog was gone forever, and the only solution to her sadness, the only defense against time, was to never forget him.
Now that Margaret (formerly Maggie) was an old woman—well, perhaps not that old, but old enough to have had a long career as a librarian, and old enough so that many memories had grown tattered with time—she had the barest of memories sitting outside along with her dog while her parents argued. She didn’t remember vowing to never forget her little companion, to cherish him always as the one and only in her life who listened to both her wishes and her woes. And yet…in the back of Margaret’s mind, she sensed there had to be more to this story, something she had forgotten.
Then one day she found herself in an unfamiliar neighborhood. It was an area near a homeless shelter where she had just started as a volunteer reading stories to children. She had finished for the day, and as she made her way down the narrow sidewalk toward her parked car, she saw a little dog crossing the street to get to the other side. Thankfully, there was only light traffic, so the dog made it safely across. “He’s just going home,” she thought. But, no, he passed one house and then another before finally stopping before a gardener trimming a bush brimming with white blossoms. The man stopped for a moment, reached into his pocket, and gave the dog some sort of treat. Then immediately both returned to what they’d been doing before: the man trimming the bush, the dog moving on. The woman, merely curious, yelled over, “Is that your dog?” The man yelled back, “No, ma’am. I just feed him once in a while. Do you want a dog?”
Margaret didn’t know what to say. She just watched as the dog moved further along in a rather comical bow-legged waddling walk. It was a black and white Chihuahua mix with short legs and large patches of missing fur on one side of his body revealing pink skin. Finally, Margaret said, “Doesn’t he live around here?”
“No,” the man said, “he just goes from place to place. No home.”
“Does he bite?” Margaret then asked.
“No, he just might lick you to death,” he replied, smiling.
Without much decision making on her part, other than thinking she’d drive the dog over to a shelter, she asked the gardener to pick up the dog and put him in the backseat of her car, which he did.
It was only after she took the dog home, gave him a bath, fed him a meal of chicken and rice, which he devoured within seconds, that Maggie realized this little dog, who now curled up next to her on the couch, was similar, maybe even identical (except for the missing fur), to her long-lost childhood companion. The memory came back to her slowly at first, and then in a mad rush. Was her mind playing tricks? Was she going crazy? Or maybe, she thought, this is the one miracle, the one wished-for adventure, granted to me in life. The kind I don’t have to dissect or explain to anyone, least of all to myself.
And while Maggie thought these thoughts, the dog continued to sleep soundly beside her. After a time, however, when Maggie moved on to considering other incomprehensible things, like the swift passage of time and her now elderly parents, who despite their disastrous marriage had somehow remained close, the little dog awoke and looked directly at her. “Hi, Charlie,” Maggie said. “Welcome home.” And the pup’s wide brown eyes, glowing warmly, told her all she needed to know.
#childhood #creativeWriting #dogs #fairytale #fiction #flashFiction #love #memory #shortStories #shortStory #time -
Five Great Quotations about Craft of Writing #Medium #novel #novelist #amwriting #writingcommunity #shortstories inventingrealityediting.com/2...
Five Great Quotations about Cr... -
Eternally, Tea
“Try again.”
Jourdain hit the floor hard, his elbow hitting before the rest of his body. He cried out in pain, but the instructor urged him to get up. She stood before him, ready for his next move.
“When you’re in the field, you have to disregard pain. The more hits you take, the stronger you become. Your species operates in this manner.”
Jourdain sighs, “I know. I know.”
“Then act like it.”
The instructor comes at him with another round of blows. He blocks as best as he can but reacts slowly when she jabs him on his right side, and again to the left side of his face.
Jourdain hit the ground head first, immobilized and knocked out.
“God, this one is a pain to train,” she sighs. Another day wasted.
From above, someone was watching the entire training session. They made their assessment mentally, stepping away from the window.
* * *
At the end of the training week, students could spend their weekly allowance on food. All of them gathered in the corridor where their food could be ordered. Jourdain walks up to one of the many touchscreen ordering stations, scrolling through the menu. He wanted a slice of strawberry shortcake; the most expensive item. Unfortunately for him, he didn’t eat enough, and he had to eat this week and the next week, and the week after.
He sighs heavily, opting for another bucket of leafy greens and spicy chicken. No cake this week.
He sits alone at a table, playing with his food. If he’s hungry enough, he’ll eat it all eventually.
A redhead girl takes a seat next to him. His friend, Ruvi. “How are you feeling?”
He shakes his head, “I’m tired and I hurt.”
Ruvi leaves her seat and gets behind him, gently wrapping her hands around him and brushing her face against his, hoping to ease his sorrows from training.
“I foresee you will feel better tomorrow.”
It’s cute, Jourdain will admit that. It brings a smile to his face. He closes his eyes, absorbing all of the good energy he can feel.
“Thank you, Ruvi.”
“No problem, now eat!”
She hops back to her seat while he douses his spinach in salad dressing.
“How was training for you?” He asked, finally taking a bite of the lettuce and fish.
“I did goooood,” Ruvi flexes her arm and pats her muscle, “I got this. Imma be top dog in no time.”
“Yeah,” his smile is warm, but his thoughts hinge on sadness. ‘We’ll be separated.’
Being a good student meant going into the field early. Ruvi was proving her worth. Soon she’ll be out in the top class’s barracks with her own team. Away from him.
He plays with his food again, taking the longest to eat.
Ten minutes pass,
Twenty.
Ruvi had finished her food. She sat there playing on her phone, tap tap tapping away.
Twenty five minutes.
“Ay, are you okay?”
“Huh?” He looks up, noticing the concern on her face.
“Oh- uhh…”
It takes him a moment to muster the courage to tell a half truth.
“I don’t want us to be separated.”
Ruvi pauses, her cheeks turning a delicate shade of red.
‘Me leaving has caused him this much pain?’
Her eyes twinkle with welled tears, she gently places her hands atop his, “Jourdain.”
His eyes met hers, noticing the tears that fell.
“…”
“I’m sorry you’ve been suffering this whole time over me.”
“I… uh…”
“If you want us to stay together, you have to be the best as hard as you can.”
He nods, staying silent.
“Now, eat so we can sleep and be prepared for tomorrow.”
He feels a little better, finally being able to eat just a little faster.
* * *
Another training session, more pain. This week it was more of the same with minimal improvement to his reaction time. The instructor would beat the shit out of him and he would be knocked out for hours.
The next week? The same thing? The week after, hmm… there’s some improvement.
He orders fish and lettuce for both weeks.
The week after? Typical. Leafy greens with a side of meat. Oh—and pain from training.
The next month? More leafy greens with fish or meat.
And his worst fear.
Ruvi and several other students were given a graduation ceremony in the atrium.
Jourdain watched as she was onstage, shaking hands with the Director of Research and the overseer of this entire program.
When she looked to the audience, her gaze settled on him and only him. She took the microphone, intent on leaving a message meant for him.
“I know it’s hard, but we are dragons. We persevere. Our species has struggled and struggled on this planet, but these struggles always make us strong. So please, let it make you stronger,” she holds out her hand to the audience, to him, “and join me in the top class.”
Jourdain’s whole face flushed red. He knew she was speaking to him. He knew that time had run out. No more would he have her good energy, her happy vibes, her presence and her jokes to pull him through.
Seeing her again is his goal. He lets it become the fuel that keeps him pushing through the intense training.
His reaction time improves slightly, but he uses his intelligence to avoid his trainer and strike her at her weak points, like grabbing her tail and BITING IT.
“WHAT THE HELL?”
She tries to yoink him off but the pain brought her to her knees.
“I won this time,” he huffs, his teeth and chin covered in her blood.
She grits her teeth, he did indeed win.
The person watching them made another mental note. Perhaps it was time to personally talk to this boy.
Jourdain was preparing to leave when The Director stopped him.
“You there, CT79, you’ve finally found an inventive way to complete a training session.”
“Uh, yeah. I guess. I really need to wash my mouth out.”
“I’ve been keeping an eye on you. Don’t let me down.”
“I won’t, sir.”
“Good. You are dismissed.”
Jourdain kept training, using his wits to climb to the top spot. The desire to meet Ruvi again is what pulls him forward. Over time, he desires that cake less and less. It becomes a footnote in the grand scale of his plans.
He remembers those old days as he stares down the strawberry cake in front of him. Here, dressed in these elegant clothes and mingling with Blavatsky’s club members, he wonders should he follow through with his mission and betray her. Should he become like the other girls and eat the cake, giving in to the dark powers and become a magical girl?
The club is in chaos. Those who chose to stay with Blavatsky are fighting for their lives against sugar-powered magical heathens. He hears the screaming, he hears the whispers of the cake, but he would rather remain as a vegetable magical girl than to betray the person who gave him a new family.
He turns away from the cake and arms himself with a broccoli staff and a purple cabbage, both manifesting from his power.
He takes one last glance back at the cake.
“Another time. We shall meet again.”
This story is for a bigger story that I think was called Miss Blavatsky’s High Society Tea Club. It’s about an aristocratic black woman who saves girls who are vulnerable to the influence of sweets and bring them to her club to learn the ways of fruits and vegetables. Lately her club has gotten the attention of someone who wants to bring it down and turn all of the veggie girls into ‘Magical Sweets Girls.’
The story came to me when I was listening to La Fee Verte by ALI PROJECT and I imagined faceless girls who loved vegetables slowly fall prey to sweets, even fighting over it, while their leader tries to keep the remaining ones away from them. The idea was further developed when I listened to the newer version of Strawberry Pie O Otabe, also by ALI PROJECT.
Lady Jourdain is a later addition. She is an actually a boy— a femboy posing as a vegetable girl. He planned to betray Blavatsky but as you can see, he just couldn’t.
Note: CT means cat tail. Refers to Jourdain’s species. Cat Tail dragon. 79 means there were 79 cat tail dragons before him.
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#books #Dragons #Fantasy #Femboy #Fiction #ScienceFiction #ShortStories #shortStory #Writing -
Everything is on hold when you're looking for a job and waiting for a flat. Diana Evans looks into the deep freeze in her short story Ice Cream:
https://www.fictionable.world/stories/ice-cream-diana-evans
Image: Agustin Fernandez
#books #reading #writing #fiction #comics #ShortStories #translation #blog #podcast #bookstodon