Category: Short Fiction

Adventure Short Fiction

The Samurai’s Quest

Moriyami backed out of the emperor’s presence. Beside him, Hiroki, his most trusted companion, bowed equally low. They’d both taken care to sweep their sheathed swords back, and they shuffled their feet lightly over the polished parquet floor. The smoke of burning incense swirled around their heads and clung to their leather armor. Emperor Karasu had charged Moriyami with a noble task, entrusting him with a sacred box that he must never open, now tucked inside his jacket. Moriyami in turn chose Hiroki—five years younger, yet his most capable soldier-brother—to accompany him on this mission to the very peak of…

Absurdist Fantasy Short Fiction

Red Town

I dreamed of a crimson river. In my mind, I willingly drowned in its sanguine flow. I meditated on deep vermilion, lingering on ripe apples and plump cherries. Oh, how I longed to pluck them, to hold them up to the sun, to study their skin, their flesh, to savor their scarlet, blush, and rose. I closed my eyes, conjuring visions of boiled lobsters on a bed of rhubarb. I turned my head to the sky and hoped for rain, miraculous and strange, blood-red droplets of Merlot. I dwelled on these things: searing hues in the belly of a smith’s…

Adventure Editor's Pick Short Fiction

The Lost King’s Curse

Centuries before the Great Western Expedition, the Kingdom of Vlitra spanned the northern half of what today is Arbus Arkad. At the height of its power, the kingdom’s territories stretched nearly from coast-to-coast. On occasion, settlers would stumble upon ruins left by that ancient people—generations ago, in the days of the early pioneers. They knew that evil spirits dwelt in those forgotten, dead places, and most decent folk avoided them for fear of being stricken with their curse. Most, but not all. The founders of the modern West were a sundry lot. Some were possessed of educations and had too…

Dark Fantasy Short Fiction

Demons

When I was young, no older than eight or nine, I would covertly enter my stepfather’s basement workshop to marvel at the miniature kingdom he had built. The display was set up over the pool table my real father had used, now little more than a platform to support stream-fed caverns and mountain chambers, the subterranean strongholds within. Gothic towers linked by arched bridges rose up and stretched under the domes of hollowed rock, which may have been plaster or papier-mâché, but had been expertly painted to look like natural stone. My stepfather was a talented hobbyist, there is no…

Absurdist Fantasy Short Fiction

Drunk and Disorderly

“Grand Master! Grand Master! Calyan is drunk again!” I had been reading a rather interesting book one of my protégés found in the depths of the library. It certainly ought to have been burned centuries ago to avoid exciting the novices, soI didn’t appreciate the interruption. “Grand Master?” The voice was babbling on about something I couldn’t muster an interest in, but as it did certain elements of the original sentence wormed their way into the higher centers of my brain. In particular the words ‘Calyan’ and ‘Drunk’. I stood with a sigh and opened the door. On the other…

Absurdist Fantasy Short Fiction

Old Sorcery

In the days of yore, when the old, strong sorcery was more than myth, spells required blood, their potency strengthened by the lives put into them, their power amplified by the offering of souls. Magic made heroes of men, and many men, heroic or otherwise, met their deaths at the wrong end of magic. There were those born with the gift of wizardry, natural enchanters blessed with inherent talents. There were those, too, who passively benefited from trinkets imbued by the sorcery of others. It cannot be overlooked: there is a great divide between the man who launches fire from…

Cozy Fantasy Short Fiction

The Wizard’s Wife

It was the best smell in the world: fresh coffee perched on a tray hovering towards her from the open bedroom door, an earthy aroma drifting in its wake. Sitting up in her bed with a stretch, the tray sat itself down on her side-table. Silvana Shadewillow graciously accepted the cup, delighted by her husband’s thoughtfulness. Drawing in a tentative sip, her eyes fluttered shut when she tasted it — extra cream, a dash of sugar — it was her perfect cup of coffee. When she opened her eyes again, she finally noticed the accompanying little breakfast her sweet Markous…