Author of Family Friendly Science Fiction & Fantasy
by Esther Davis
Nowell thrust Fyrsken into the snow and leaned on the sword’s hilt. The frost caking his gloves seeped through the cloth, stinging his fingers.
“We need to go back,” Nowell said.
Sleipnir stopped. The white wolf twisted his neck to peer back at his master. “They don’t deserve you.”… Continue reading “Nowell”
by Esther Davis
“Don’t forget to feed the computers.”
Dr. Whitmore pitched another fork of hay over Chicago’s iron fence. The elephant pinched the yellowed straw with his trunk and shoved it into his disproportionately tiny mouth. On paper, Chicago counted as another of Dr. Whitmore’s experimental specimen. The only real experiment was seeing how long he could get away with keeping a pet elephant.
“Could you feed them, Honey?” Dr. Whitmore asked. “I’ve got to finish another research proposal. Funding doesn’t grow on trees.”
Mrs. Whitmore crinkled her pudgy nose. “Have I ever offered to touch that sludge? You feed them.” … Continue reading “Don’t Forget to Feed the Computers”
by Esther Davis
I watched the lone survivor ease back into the conscious world. Bloodied mud and scarlet-stained moss lay around him. I ran my tongue over the flesh wedged between my teeth, savoring the taste of centaur.
Sanroc rose to his hooves, staggered a moment. I probed Sanroc’s mind, searching for fear, but found none. Still dazed.
My eyes glazed over as I further submerged myself into his consciousness. I smirked at his grasping for memory. Mortals. Such feeble minds.
He’d been brought here against his will. Sanroc remembered that much. But he still didn’t see the shreds of ropes mingled with the surrounding carnage nor the dagger, forgotten, beneath the stunted, gnarled spruce.
Odan came in the night. He’d dragged Sanroc–gagged, bound, and blindfolded–from their village under the veil of the new moon. Sanroc massaged his head now, trying to pull his memory to the surface. He saw again Odan’s bitter eyes. I remembered the vengeful lust I’d lapped from his kidnappers mind.
I pulled back to my body, leaving only the smallest probe in Sanroc’s head. I dug my claws into the bark and shifted my weight to make branch groaned beneath me. Sanroc’s head snapped towards the dark trees. All at once he saw the carnage, remembered the screams, and knew I–the beast in the shadows–had devoured his “friend”… Continue reading “Cobweb of Ghosts”
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Mrs. @SprklyBubbles96 1
#English800
2 Sept 2073
5 Paragraph Essay: Technological First Aid 2 (First Draft)
Bright screens, blaring music, the aroma of chocolate cake drifting from the i-Sens Box’s ad… welcome to the ideal American home. Our #technology keeps us alive, feeding us the constant simulation the human brain craves for survival. But what if an EMP exploded above Washington? 3 :O Goodbye to electronics, permanently.
Don’t worry, the human brain can survive a full 26 hours 4 without constant stimuli. 🙂 5 But only 26. In an #emergency, your first priority is finding new stimuli. Water, food, shelter—that can wait. Continue reading “Tech #Disaster 101”
by Esther Davis
Every scar tells a story.
Dark webbing still marks my shoulder from the day that bullets separated my squad from our company. The bleeding would’ve killed me if my comrades hadn’t bandaged it. But isolated from medical equipment, we couldn’t stop the scarring.
After days of wandering the Amazon I tripped, leaving a white slice across my stomach. A dumb wound. Not from a heroic battle with enemy soldiers or fleeing some hungry beast. I just got tired, so I fell.
Then came the jagged blossom encasing my thigh. Forever an vengeful red, as if still burning after all these years.
Some stories I’d rather forget.
Read the rest on T. Gene Davis’s Speculative Blog →
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NOTES…
First, a big thank you to Mohammad Attaran for another fantastic piece of artwork! Make sure to check out his website.
This month’s sketch turn into a full-blown story, as you can see. I originally meant it to be only 300 words. But sometimes stories have a mind of their own.
It’s official: I’ll be posting monthly stories! If you want an email reminder whenever I post a new story, subscribe in the upper right-hand corner (or bottom of the page for you mobile readers). Or you can follow me on Twitter @EstherDDavis.
by Esther Davis
“I don’t think it’s a frog egg.” Dain raised the glass to eye level and turned it slowly. “You could’ve at least given him a bigger container.”
“The egg was smaller, I swear! By, like, a lot.” I didn’t like how Dain only clamped the glass’s rim from above. After three nights in the cupboard, the growing egg had pushed nearly all the water out. Some of the moisture still lingered on the side. What if the glass was too slick and my not-really-a-tadpole slipped from Dain’s fingertips? I resisted the urge to snatch the glass and cradle it against my chest.
The once penny-sized bubble now pressed against the glass walls. The confinement had warped the egg sac, making it more cylindrical than spherical. In the orange liquid floated not the pet tadpole I’d expected, but a dragon fetus. Continue reading “Not a Frog”
by Esther Davis
The Obelisks should have saved us.
Joshr perched on the boulder, waves crashing against the rocky shore at his back. The Obelisk rose from the volcanic rock like a charred tree from ash. Its protective enchantments still held. The runes running up its hundred-foot spine still glowed blue. Far to the west and east, other Obelisks shone, each holding their ancient vigil.
No enemy could breach the unseen wall spanning between the Obelisks. But the Builders never knew enemies could come from above… Continue reading “Men of Blades”
by Esther Davis
The snowfall muffled the distant highway, and frosted autumn leaves still clung to their branches. Cody perched on the bench’s edge. His pug flopped into the carpet of snow at his feet. He watched Rachel’s fingers molding the handful of snow—clumsy and awkward. So simple, so ordinary. Magicless.
It was beautiful.
“How can you like me so much?” he blurted.
Read the rest in T Gene Davis’s Speculative Blog.