Author’s Note: This is the second in a series of three novellas about fairies operating in the modern day by way of transforming magical mecha that allow them to act on the human scale. They specifically tackle the intersection of old biases and new technologies. If you’re interested I recommend starting with the first one, as they all follow the same characters.
Kunk kunk. Nobody answered the door, so to the back of the line with Pollywig. The next fairy up guessed that she just hadn’t been forceful enough. KUNK KUNK! He succeeded in bruising his knuckles, but not in opening it, so Taxido had to cede his place. If the other nine failed again he could have another turn at it. Next was Bellirub, and she had bragged after every attempt that she had a way with stubborn magical things. Her knock was practically melodious: katunk kunk katunkituktuk. Continue reading
Prompt: Nobody dared go near the tower, as a fearsome dragon lay at the top. One day a knight rode up. “Do you need help to get down?” “Please.”
His horse could only go so far before the magic took effect. The animal had no idea what was happening, just that its legs were giving out. It collapsed onto its side with a panicked whinny, tossing its rider into the dirt. They should’ve been safely in the shade, but nothing was right in the area around the tower. Continue reading
Regular Romp is an interactive fiction activity over on our Twitch stream where I ask a regular a series of questions before turning their answers and a corruption of their username into a short story. Stop by twitch.tv/blainearcade if you’d like to participate.
Most people chose to capture moments like that with paint or, if they could afford it, the newfangled tin plate photography. Sir Moanle was a simpler man who painted with nothing but the sparsely-haired brush of his memory. If the image had any bare patches they were filled in over time, as he observed that sunrise over the river every day for three months. Continue reading
Prompt: What will we see under the clouds of Jupiter’s red spot? It’s been dwindling over the last thousand years…
The man’s skin was red like clay, yet his beard was free of grime. He came with an incredible storm, always walking at its edge, never outpacing it. The storm was just as red, but not so stoic. It flung boulders everywhere, uprooted the oldest of trees, and turned whole villages into shreds and straw. When anyone got close enough to address him, before the storm inevitably killed them, they asked his name. He had none to offer, only a title: the Red Soul. Continue reading
Prompt: two self-conscious ogres argue with a knight over who is superior
Sir Ridget was only bringing a favor to his fiance that day. He rode through the forest on his loyal steed: a beautiful white horse by the name of Jerry. It was a bit of a silly name, but his fiance’s niece had asked for the pleasure of christening the creature, and Sir Ridget was a man of his word. Continue reading
He was used to roaring bonfires and dripping spits of meat, but for now a trashcan fire would have to do. He was used to castle halls or at least inns that smelled of warm cider and hay, but for now a classroom full of overturned desks in the junior high school would have to do. Continue reading