Category: Short Fiction

Editor's Pick Mythic Fantasy Short Fiction

A Clash of Wind and Lightning

Throughout its history, mountains in this region were more for the hardy and less for the fashionable. Spirits claimed the high places, and durable men and women claimed the places in between. Settlers of the upper valleys eked out a living and raised their families in splendid and harsh isolation, vaguely but persistently aware of the forces above. Few there were who ventured up the steeps though it was known that the highland meadows were good for grazing. Every so often, however, the high fever seized upon a restless, earthbound soul, and up past the crags he would go to…

Dark Fantasy Short Fiction

The Talekeeper

The weight of old words, pages unread. I carried it with me in those days. Close to my breast I clutched it under my cloak as if holding myself together. I was filthy-faced and rough-bearded, seldom speaking to another living soul. Carriages steered in wide arcs around me on the road; lanterns dimmed in windowsills when I passed. If I came across a group of children they would scatter upon seeing me. When I left a town, tales sometimes spread of a witch’s thrall shambling by night or a bogeyman carrying a sack of bone and gristle on his back.…

Heroic Fantasy Short Fiction

The First War

Barrin burst from the raging rapids that had battered him pitilessly from one squall to the next, gasping for precious breath. Muscles borne of tireless work and ceaseless training powered him to the bank, where he dragged himself crawling out of the rapids, then further up a slope, to a point where he could finally fall, face buried in the mud and the silt. He sighed, satisfied. Once again, he emerged from battle undefeated. Not all enemies carried swords and spears. Not all enemies wet their small clothes at the sight of the beast he had become. Some enemies were…

Gaslamp Fantasy Short Fiction

I Was Once Yours

Blood: a pearl droplet on the meat of his thumb. Glass: a sliver, imperceptible aside from subtle pressure between two layers of skin. Teeth: parallel to the wound, sucking at the shard. It is no use. Artavan swears amid the percussion of the glass grinder crashing to the floor. A pocket watch in his leather apron chirps: two hours. The blood brings relief that it exists at all. It is him, small red pieces of him, free to bead and run. He checks his reflection in the polished lighthouse lens. A russet smear on his front teeth. He moves his…

Short Fiction Sword and Sorcery

Once is Never Enough

Aisling held what remained of Blightheart by his horn, throwing the goblin magelord’s head at the boots of her liege lord, Árdghal, who had commanded his fighters to cleanse his lands of the vile bastard’s black magic. “You have done well, Aisling.” He leaned forward in his throne, examining the grotesque grimace gazing upward from the straw and cobbles. Aisling did not kneel. She did not bow her head. Tough as leather, she crossed her sinewy arms and smirked. She met her liege lord’s eyes as if she were his equal, as if she were his better. “The deed is…

Dark Fantasy Editor's Pick Short Fiction

The King of Kings

The shroud was pale, it hurt the eyes. Kohl over the eyelids shielded just enough, but a single overt glance sent a surge of piercing thunder straight back into the skull. Selikkar had warned the sun was deadly, but it barely stood a dissuasion. She had spoken of prophecies and gods unrecorded, decried that Neliesen’s journey was not sufficient to appease nature’s forces, yet It departed, and It walked into a storm It could not see to test the legitimacy of Its order’s teachings. The sand burned wherever it hit the skin, like bee stings of flaming magma which overstayed…

Heroic Fantasy Short Fiction

The Dragon and the Deep Kingdom

In those days, the Kingdom of First Knuckle still stood at the heart of a deep-lake, where the mists were a perfume of spores and the wind smelled like velvet shank. There was no reaching the castle at its center without taking a gonleden up the locks to the channels. To set upon the lake itself was to die in the jaws of the leviathan; to take the channels without the King’s blessing was to die by her arrow. King Thornblade surveyed her kingdom from the highest chamber, reminding herself of legacy. It was Mikteshfis gold studding the walls, Mikteshfis…

Fairy Tale Short Fiction

Acorn, Honey, Fat, and Foxglove

There was a girl named Angela. She lived on the fourth floor of a building that only went up to three. One day, she came downstairs. – The book of Dan and Angela, March, 1991 * * * I’ve not seen the old building for, probably, thirty years. But here it is, almost exactly as it was the morning that my mom stood right there packing our car, with her puffy eyes and cracking voice trying her best, and failing miserably, to keep a lid on the pure fucking rage that she felt towards Dad. Trying to make me feel…

Dark Fantasy Editor's Pick Short Fiction

Sky Over Mountain

Under the mountain, known to the trolls who lived in her caverns as Cairn, winter was held at bay. In the cavernous network worming through Cairn’s rocky heart, the temperature remained constant, no matter the season. For trolls, with hides as thick as an ox’s, the near-freezing atmosphere was favorable to their hardy constitution. Not unlike the caves within Cairn, Hakon, the clan’s chieftain, was neither warm nor cold. He was stern, but fair, and his mood, like the innards of the mountain, seemed held at a constant. Such was his stoicism when he approached Noma, an elderly troll who…

Absurdist Fantasy Short Fiction

The Value of Horns

When it comes to trolls, horns are paramount to one’s identity. More than a badge of status, they transcend mere ornamentation. For trolls, size matters—the bigger the better—especially when it comes to their horns. Although, the shape, curve, twist, and hue are no less important than the length and girth. Troll horns are versatile, multifaceted in their purpose. They are used for combat, for attracting mates, for intimidation and glamour. Horns are at the center of troll fashion and, in some tribes, even of great spiritual significance. For trolls, be they of the cave or forest or mountain clans, horns…