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
Arye withdrew his fingers and hissed. Though the bottle sat undisturbed, angry violet streaks sizzled across the cauldron’s surface like claw marks from a rabid animal. Arye’s fingertips stung. He placed them on his lips, hoping to cool them. The flash still played across his eyes.
Amethyst shouldn’t burn. It healed. It soothed. But never burned… Continue reading “Amethyst to Soothe”
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
Water stains and rips decorated the package cupped in her hand. A dirty string held the parchment wrapping together. No address or name, to or from. The mail dragon didn’t need words.
Neither did Emma.
Only one man would seek out the mail dragon to find Emma, hiding in the city of Trygghet.Only one man could have sent it.
Or his enemies… Continue reading “Rose of Darkness”
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
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”