Author of Family Friendly Science Fiction & Fantasy
by Esther Davis
Kira huffed and let her pink arms dangle over the iron railing like cooked noodles. “When can I have a turn?”
I pressed the binoculars closer, letting them dig into my eyebrows. Rubber bumps rolled along my finger as a twisted the knob between the two scopes. The purple and white fuzz sharpened. A platinum cyborg horse trotting across the Data Ice.
The words escaped with my gasp. “He’s huge.”… Continue reading “Trespassers Beware”
by Esther Davis
“Paddle down the creek,” the Phoenix Spirit said, “until the cherry grove mists over, and the waterfall’s tumbling deafens your mind.”
For forty-nine years Feng paid his dues in the Land of Spirits. Now came his second chance.
Jade and opal carpeted the creek bed. Only the occasional stir from Feng’s paddle reminded him that water, not air, separated his sampan from the gemstones. Pink cherry blossoms lined the shore.
Feng let his eyes feast on his surroundings one last time—the green carpeting, the double suns shining above, the creatures and spirits eying the curious traveler. He imagined returning from his mortal voyage, this time entering the Land of Spirits with a clean conscious.
He mustn’t fail… Continue reading “Born of Flame”
by Esther Davis
The silver dragon perched on the hilltop. Its rider tightened its saddle and adjusted the bundle on its back. Crystal’s sandals pattered on the cobblestone as she gaped at the mail dragon. She ran on, clutching the envelope to her chest.
Dear Papa,
Can I call you Papa? I’ve always wanted a real papa.
Crystal scribbled the words on a scrap of parchment as soon as she slipped away from Mama’s rant. “Made the biggest commotion when it flew in. Rotten magic folk should get the message already. The mayor tried shooing her off, but the rider insisted. Stubborn as rhino dung!”… Continue reading “Dear Papa”
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”
@EstherDDavis
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
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.