This is a 1700 word short story about the saving of a kingdom, or at least that is the way he wants it to appear. This rather short excerpt is taken from the middle of the story just after the main character had cut Loriss. Here he wants to get him outside, away from the blood thirsty crowd.
He let Loriss come back at him, let his arcing rapier connect with his vambrace, ducked and rolled out of the way. He was quick, a lot quicker than Loriss gave him credit. On his feet again he charged at Loriss, whose back was to him. He re-sheathed his blade and at the last moment leant forwards, plucked Loriss from the ground and shoved him towards a door at the back of the room.
This is the story of a girl ghost, Lucy James. She has become trapped in a field where her body lay in its shallow grave. All she wants is to see her granddad again and to do this she knows she needs to see her body's true burial.
Note: this short story is now available as an e-book short. See right the right column for a direct link to amazon.co.uk
It was night. The frozen field she’d not been able to leave was covered in a thick blanket of snow. The amount of cars on the road had become scarce, so she’d given up her task for a while. Instead she stood, looking down at the little black shoe under the hedgerow. It was a size six and a half, ‘a big girl’s shoe,’ her mum had told her when they were in the shop.
Another car came zooming up the road, headlights full on. They blinked through the bare bones of the bush. She waved even though she knew they wouldn’t see her.
She walked the five steps to the opening in the hedge. As the car’s lights left a white streak in front of her, she heard another one coming in the other direction. She stood waiting for it to arrive over the crest of the hill.
When it’s dipped lights appeared, she could see the man inside. She waved. He had a white light running around his head and shoulders, the white of angels; she’d seen a few like that but none of them had stopped. He looked her way and with the expression he wore, she knew he could see her.
For further reading, check out the Buried page.
The Enchanted Confinement
This is a short stand alone story where a dragon, many years ago, had been trapped in the side of a mountain, alone and abandoned. For a thousand years he'd been this way and time had taken away his will.
Two hooded figures arrived and their presence alone angered him. For it was monks, so many years earlier, who had enslaved him and left him alone.
We take up the story as the monks return for a second time. Without inclination of why they had come, they built and lit a fire.
Both were similar in appearance, with shaved heads, and eyes dark and stern in the flickering light. Neither spoke in their preparations, both seemed as eager as the other to get everything right. One produced a three inch thick leather bound book from his pack, the other a single drum. There was something familiar in their faces.
One struck a chorus on the drum, the beat a wild cadence of the past. Instantly he recognised the similarity of the song of his demise, yet it was different somehow. The other danced in step to the drumbeat. All around the fire he sprang, leaping here and there. Every pass of the book, now lying opened, he recited its contents.
The beating of the drum reminded him of the anger he had felt of the monks’ abandonment. There was no doubt in his mind, these two were monks, and this was the time, his time. Was this their plan all along: to enslave him, until they had further need of him? The warmth he now felt was not from the fire, but from his anger rising. It burned him to the core. He willed them to succeed. Do it, set me free. He wanted nothing more than to rip off their heads and burn their decapitated torsos. Or should he wait, he thought suddenly. Should he allow them to live, just long enough for them to lead him to their peers? Yes.
The incantational words of old echoed round the valley, to the wild cadence of the drumbeat. The fire flickered and cackled rhythmically. The ground beneath trembled.
Into The Ocean
This is a stand alone short story whereby the main character has fallen in love with a woman of the sea.
We take up the story from very near the beginning when he is awaiting the return of his love and their daughter.
Note: Having re-read this story, I felt it needed a little more than the 3000 or so words I had originally intended for it. I have completely changed things with this and although I have kept the original storyline for the beginning, it is currently sitting around 9000 words mark and growing. And what a story it has become. I'm really enjoying the write.
Update: It is currently sitting at 11,300 words. It is nearing its completion, or so I believe. Things do have a tendency sometimes to expand beyond a short story and this could end up becoming a novel
The story continues...
To any who read this excerpt. I am in cahoots about whether to scrap this scene entirely. Let me know your thoughts in the comments section. Thanks, Charles.
When he opened his eyes, he was uncertain of where he was, and it took him a moment to organise his thoughts. He jumped out of his seat, panicked at the thought of missing them and ran out the door. He sprinted bare foot across the sharp sand, headed straight for the water’s edge. He searched the waves in every direction as he ran, desperate and hopeful.
He leapt into ankle deep water, soaking himself in the process. When no heads presented themselves, he removed his shorts and ran farther out before diving in and swimming.
He may have missed them, but if he was quick enough, maybe, just maybe he’d still find them before they left the bay.
For ten minutes he searched, before finally heading back to the shore.
On his approach, something grabbed at his conscience; he dipped his head and looked along the underside of his body. Through the murky water he could make out two lines of triangular white teeth, they belonged to a jaw, opened wide. The teeth of a great white shark he had no doubt. He kicked faster with both feet, arms flailed in his desperate plea to flee. In knee deep water, he rose. Running proved difficult as he struggled to gain any distance from the predator. The shark was right behind. Its nose nudged the back of his lower leg. He fell. Turning he readied to fend in whatever way he could. The shark came on, wide jawed ready to take its fatal bite. As teeth pierced his skin, he jumped in his chair.
Charles F Bond is writer of fantasy and paranormal fiction. He wishes you much merriment in the pursuit of good reading.
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The Little Miracle