Category Archives: Fantasy Stories

An End at Barfleur – A Short Story

This 1,650-word story is a journal entry in Book One, Ursus Borealis, in The Starlight Chronicles series. I found it rather fun to write a story within a story. It nestles in a chapter featuring Kuliana Hada, a character that appears throughout the series, who is an Anurashin Captain of the Guard. Cynthia is her ancestress.

Cynthia’s story is incorporated into an actual historical account about the White Ship that sailed in 1120 as described. Its sinking changed history.

An End at Barfleur

I am Cynthia, a marked maiden, a human born with a destiny entwined with a race from another world. I was trained to fight alongside my mate Aldric and his pack with the guidance of my magus Zigan Meshara of the Order of Hala against three rebellious princes who were banished from the planet Anurash.

This sounds impossible, I know. But you will just have to take my word. That is, if you are from the human realms and this makes its way to you as I hope.

My life started on a farm in the county of Anjou. Then it changed forever when I met a bear from Normandy.

After immersing myself in the astonishing world of my mate and the kingdoms of the shifters, learning there was life beyond this Earth, and before reaching the heavens, took only a few extra pints to swallow it down. That, and meeting Zigan. It turns out Zigan and I are old souls and have done this dance before.

How my soul was chosen for this repeated Earth-bound destiny is a mystery, but my magus spent much time over wine in our chateau sharing what he knew of our history, or rather the history of the prophecy of the marked maidens.

As for Zigan, up till we met, he had spent his life training with the Order, which included studying the records in the extensive archives and all forms of alchemy, in addition to being honed into a warrior. Even more astonishing, he could transform into a stunning feline I learned was called a tiger.

For eight years I experienced what it was to be part of the Pack, to be soulmates with its alpha, to be one piece of a wondrous whole, and we were successful in our purpose, keeping the machinations of the princes from the human population, and mitigating the damages.

This is the part at the end of our story and writing it down is agony because it chronicles the event that halted our purpose violently, tore me from those I loved, and marked the beginning of my slow and lonely death. Still, it must be told.

It takes place starting mid-morning of the 25th day of the month of November in the year 1120. We arrived at Barfleur near the coast of Normandy, after confirming the location of the current scheme of Aviel Enair, the oldest and most formidable of the three sibling princes. We lacked the details, but we knew his scheme would involve the sailing vessel known as the White Ship, renowned for its speed and beauty, and now carrying the only legitimate heir to King Henry I across to England.

Frustration gripped me, and I wrapped my arm around myself, trying to catch my breath after having run the length of the docks. I called out to my mate behind me, “It is just as we feared, Aldric. The ship has almost reached the Quilleboeuf!”

There were three hundred souls sailing away as I spoke, other nobles as well as the heir, and the loss would be catastrophic to the burgeoning English monarchy. When we learned the king’s seventeen-year-old son, William Adelin, desired to sail on this elegant vessel while his father sailed ahead of him, and that Aviel had set his sights on it, we considered the hazards the Anurashin prince might exploit.

The ship had a good reputation and so did its captain, Thomas FitzStephen, whose father had taken the prince’s grandfather, William the Conqueror, across the same sea. The only evident risk was sailing past Gatteville, where hidden rocks like the Quilleboeuf lay waiting for careless sailors. But FitzStephen was surely used to navigating such hazards.

I breathed in the salty air to sharpen my mind while I considered our options. The raucous calls of seagulls ebbed overhead as they congregated, fought, then flew off with morsels of fish as their prize. Despite the size and piercing eyes of the warrior next to me, we stood unnoticed among the throng of bodies rushing towards their duties on the bustling docks.

“You must call Zigan, my love,” Aldric said, drawing me to his side and offering his warmth as I shivered from the urgency of our task and the breeze cooling the sweat of my exertion.
Though we were French, our purpose as part of this prophetic trio was to protect the balance of power fated for this world. When the princes interfered, it fared badly for the indigenous populations, according to Zigan’s archives.

That meant we trained to take risks, and we discovered this scheme by becoming captives of the princes while each enjoyed inflicting painful retribution on us for our past successes. But Aviel allowed his brothers’ torment to go only so far, which we’d learned to count on, though we didn’t understand it, and our plan included an escape.

It went perfectly, until we ran into a trap and had to leave our pack behind to fight, which also delayed our arrival, and a worry was taking hold in me that the last eight years of joy and strife might culminate on these docks. Still, I pushed on.

After placing the insides of my wrists together, my tiger appeared, first as an image on my skin, then as a man stepping out of a gray mist, calmly taking us in with fathomless dark eyes. His markings glowed bright gold against his bronzed arms, and his silky black hair waved in the breeze.

“We need to get aboard that ship, Zigan.” I pointed to the sails disappearing north along the coast to Gatteville. “Can you haze us there?”

“I can, but I may not have enough energy to get you back.”

Aldric said, “Let me go with him. If the ship were to sink and Zigan cannot return us both…” He let that thought trail off as he looked at me in that fierce way that melted my heart.

The powerful love I had for this man, this larger-than-life Norman-born warrior who shared the spirit of a mighty brown bear, still overwhelmed me after all these years. We had not taken one moment of our time for granted, knowing the dangers inherent in my destiny.

Clutching his hand, I said, “But I must be the one on that ship, Aldric. We have no idea what is planned, and we need my instincts as a marked maiden.”

“You will be noticed. I can blend in and discern the situation. We must go now, as they approach the rocks.”

I stood on my toes and brought his face to mine, peering into his brown eyes to see his bear gleaming at me, a magnificent beast he could transform into at will. Our lips came together for a precious moment before I stepped back.

Zigan gripped my mate, nodded to me reassuringly, then they disappeared. I took shelter and waited. In less than thirty minutes they were back.

Aldric and I stepped towards each other as he gave his report. “Nearly everyone on board was drunk on wine and betting on a race to beat the king to England. The ship sailed fast, pushing its limits. Not more than ten minutes after we arrived, it hit the rocks and foundered.” I gasped in dismay, but he assured me the king’s son made it to a lifeboat.

Suddenly, warriors in the garb of another time appeared in a heavy mist that seemed to have blown in from the sea. They surrounded us. Zigan and Aldric drew their swords, and I followed with mine.

The sound of steel rang out, and we held our own against a dozen, until my sword was knocked from my hand. Strong arms grabbed me from behind. Aldric’s roar shook the planks beneath our feet. But the Anurashin warrior held me fast and kept me from my mate’s reach, letting the others leap in between us, forcing Aldric to slice his way to me.

The warrior said in my ear, “The prince has his sights on you, maiden. Did you not think he would find you?”

“He may have found me, but he’ll not have me!”

Springing my knife from my sleeve, I lunged back, shoving it between his ribs, and twisting it. The warrior grunted in pain, but his grip did not loosen. Aldric dodged blades, slammed his fist into faces, and rammed bodies, while I tried to pull free.

Zigan moved so fast arcs of blood hovered in the air where he last appeared. But when he hazed close and tried to grab me away, the warrior jerked us back and two others lunged for him. To my utter horror, they took his head.

My knees gave out as unbearable agony ripped through my heart, then my entire being, when his soul was wrenched brutally from mine. This couldn’t be real. Never had I imagined our bond could be so viciously severed, or that the warrior magus was anything but invincible.

A sickening realization plummeted like a stone in my belly. This was Aviel’s plan. Why he let us escape before. These moves had been orchestrated for this purpose. To kill my magus. To take me. To destroy the Pack de Normande.

What was left of my heart was crushed to pulp when Aldric stepped into a blade not bothering with the pain, to reach for me, desperate to save me as he felt the agony of my loss, and our loss to come.

The mist I dreaded grew thick, and I sensed I was breaking into tiny pieces. This couldn’t be happening.

I locked gazes with the bleak eyes of my mate who was coming to the same conclusions as I faded into bits, so close to him our fingers nearly touched.

My heart and soul poured into my words. “I will love you forever!”

The sound that followed was the mighty roar of a wounded bear.

Isa Loves my Pod People…

Sam and Priss are super loveable Pod People… more stories for them in the works. Don’t you love Isa’s fairy wings?!! Find it on Amazon with bonus …

Isa Loves my Pod People…

Isa Loves my Pod People…

Sam and Priss are super loveable Pod People… more stories for them in the works. Don’t you love Isa’s fairy wings?!!

Find it on Amazon with bonus content, works in progress and a couple of my favorite short stories, with awesome book covers. Hey, the tiniest stories warrant covers as much as their big cousins.

This includes Isa’s lovely review…

This is a special week for so many reasons – to celebrate, enjoy a huge discount on my books 😊

Ursus Borealis and Drago Incendium

Indie Author Spotlight this Sunday!

Stay tuned – Interview will be posted 14 Aug 2022!

Join me here on Sunday for a fun and inspiring Q&A with Indie Swords & Sorcery Fantasy author from Down Under, Douglas W. T. Smith.

I plan to feature more of my writer and creator friends here on a regular basis. We’re all going through the myriad of stages to improve our writing, market our books and grow our reading community. This will be a place to glean tips and inspiration through it all.

Shadow of the Wicked now on Audio!

Sharing my Work in Progress by Request! Thank you Kind Readers.

There is an interesting story behind the beginning. The first line came about from a prompt in a writing challenge. Amazing what can grow from an opening line of text, “the attack was over in seconds.” Hmmm… 14,000 words later…

In the middle of the challenge, we were given a twist. There could be no physical violence. Since this grew into something bigger than I planned, I didn’t meet the deadline, but I stuck with the first two challenges, at least at first. Physical violence will become part of my story. It doesn’t matter, though, because I’ve already received tons of satisfaction in writing about Raelyn and Harley, and all the friends they encounter along the way.

Toxic Friends Can be a Good Thing

Raelyn’s parents, both university professors, both geneticists, disappear, first one then the other, by the time she is sixteen. No bodies are found, and the police never pursue an investigation, despite Raelyn’s conviction and testimony that humans who are much more than human are involved. To avoid her parents’ fate while she does her own investigating, she takes to the streets, the best place to hide in plain sight. But her efforts are hindered by panic attacks when she keeps stumbling across the entities as they make their strange transformations. When she befriends an unusually perceptive canine who insists on being her therapy dog, Raelyn starts getting her answers. But they’re answers to questions she didn’t even know she had, and her understanding of the world around her changes forever.

Chapter 1

The attack was over in seconds. A full thirty seconds to be exact, where I struggled to stay conscious as my heart nearly beat out of my chest, but it was less than half the time of the last one… Thanks to Harley.

My furry companion was getting better at leading me away from the freaky spectacles only we seemed to witness before I became incapacitated by the panic that inevitably followed.

Harley’s warm nose pressed against my neck as I gulped the familiar combination of fresh sea air and city streets into my constricted lungs, and my grip on the battered watch relaxed even as the threat of panic lingered along with the gray spots dancing in my eyes. The thought of passing out and leaving my best friend alone could trigger an attack as much as coming upon an entity in yet another alley doing its bizarre thing.

I stuffed the old Timex I scored in a dumpster dive back in my hidden pocket, two shirts below my top one. It helped to time these events, reassuring me that Harley had a very real effect on halting the worst of it.

My jaw tightened with determination. I needed to be strong for him. He was for me. A natural therapy dog. His value had no limit, unless you were one of those people secure in the knowledge you had a roof over your head and food was plentiful. That person would scrunch their face in disgust, wave a hand in front of their nose, then give him a wide berth. I often got the same reaction, so I knew how it felt.

This tired old thought reminded me we were overdue for a bath at the shelter on Ocean Street. Every couple of weeks they would kindly let me bathe Harley with the hose on the back stoop before I got my own hot shower. It wasn’t our fault the streets made us beyond filthy before our next spa day, or that I had to dress again in soiled clothes, though I did try to time it with a trip to the laundry mat when I accumulated enough scrounged coins. Refreshed from our respective baths, we would get our bowl of hot soup and sliced bread and dine in the tiny garden of the shelter house with the hummingbirds who visited the old honeysuckle vines and a lone hollyhock. But we were a week out for our next visit.

My stomach growled. We were overdue for a meal, too.

Letting my mind wander over these mundane things succeeded in distracting me, and my breathing calmed. I was backed against a brick wall on a side street where Harley had brought me, always knowing the exact distance from a sighting I needed to be to get a grip. Keeping my fingers buried in the ruff of his neck, I slid the rest of the way to the cement walkway to think rationally about the scene we just fled.

An entity that resembled a man changed shape after drawing ribbons of crackling energy around him. The new creature flew off so fast, I could almost believe it was a dream. But telling myself that never worked. I’d witnessed the transformation too many times. They didn’t always fly, either. Sometimes they were four-legged, and huge.

I shivered again. Harley burrowed closer, and my arm went around his middle without conscious thought. He nudged me, and his offer of comfort penetrated my awareness, and I hugged him. Even with the grime, he smelled like love to me.

We were allowed another minute to recuperate before a shop owner pointed us out to a police cruiser. Long Beach had just cleaned up this block, and the merchants were diligent about keeping those of us without permanent residences moving along. They didn’t care where, so long as it wasn’t on their street.

Nathan stepped out of the black and white and opened his mouth, but my wave made him clamp it shut again. He was cool, and a rookie, already good at keeping track of the regulars on his beat, and he never judged us. He nodded then moved on to more important matters.

“Come on, fur face. It’s time to head to camp. We can stop for a bite on the way.”

He answered by standing and giving me a butt wag. Like me, he started life as a purebred, meaning he had clear origins, an Australian Shepherd to be exact, and got his tail docked for his misfortune. Apparently, he didn’t meet someone’s standards and lost his home despite his perfect temperament. My misfortune started when my father, a university professor, disappeared just after my sixth birthday, leaving my mother, his colleague, and a fellow geneticist, to raise me alone in Belmont Shores.

As we moved along my favorite side streets, I couldn’t help but examine certain people for signs. Recognizing the light that flashed deep in their eyes was a skill I developed over time. Also, they were fitter than normal humans, crackling with an energy that surely others must notice, though the evidence pointed to complete ignorance by the general population. It was hard to quantify the sum of their superior physical stature, but enough encounters convinced me of the differences between them and a typical Southern California fitness fanatic. It was their obvious strength as much as their otherness that made them so terrifying.

Still, these things didn’t explain my panic attacks. The obvious conclusion was terror. But the shapeshifters, as I’d come to think of them, didn’t know I observed them from the shadows, and they’d never come after me. The only other explanation I could come up with for plunging into panic when I witnessed a transformation was the significant role they played in the events surrounding the disappearance of my parents.

Three entities had been at our house the night my mother disappeared. Their arrival woke me up, something about the way the energy changed in the house. I hid on the landing and watched as my mother took them to her study. She acted like they were normal guests, other than the strange wordless greetings.

There was a heart-stopping moment when one of them raised his face my way and sniffed the air. I froze until he moved on. Then I slipped down the stairs to listen at the door.

Mom was the first to speak, only a slight note of distress detectable in her usually calm voice. “Why did you come here? What you need is at the lab.”

“We know, and we’re aware of its significance for us and how hard you’ve worked, Elaine, but its existence is too dangerous, for you, and your daughter. We came to check your house for bugs, and to warn you to bury the project. You have protocols in place to deep-six everything?”

“Yes. I’ll take care of it tonight. But I was prepared for this, Max. The man has the clout to close down the lab without notice. I want you to take this.” I detected the sounds of the safe opening.

Max said, “The alpha told us you were clever. But there cannot be any evidence linking you to the research. We’re grateful that you completed your husband’s work, but the man is not stupid. He suspects you’ve carried on. I swear that for our part, this will never see the light of day… in the human world.”

Max left his two companions at the house to cover every square inch of it like he promised, but not before they transformed right in the hall.

Mom clutched her heart, even as she smiled in fascination at the creatures now on four legs in front of her, and said, “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that.”

My own heart pounded so hard I was sure they would hear it. It was a strange thing to see my mother, the brilliant, logical scientist, accepting the unbelievable, when I was ready to run screaming.

After they were done searching the inside, they crept into the eaves to take up posts after leaving my mother at the door of her bedroom, though I was tucked back in my own bed by then and only knew they were there by straining my ears, barely detecting scraping sounds and a few bumps on the roof.

It was the last I saw of them, or her. Despite all the questions jamming my brain, I had fallen asleep huddled under my blankets, and when I woke the next morning, the house was empty, with no signs of what happened.

The authorities didn’t think highly of my theory that beings who were more than human were involved. In fact, after attempting to describe the entities, they were convinced I was nuts, and earmarked my case for an institution. It didn’t matter that I was two years ahead of my classmates and preparing for college at sixteen and could clearly articulate the events.

Another thing that was clearer now was that my instincts for self-preservation prompted me to skew my testimony enough to leave out the parts that might incriminate my mother. Those instincts also warned me the institution they had in mind for me was not meant for mentally ill teenagers, and to disappear when my caseworker tried to fob me off on a stranger claiming she was my legal guardian. I knew who my parents’ lawyer was, and it wasn’t the cold-looking woman who showed up for me.

Since no other family existed, and my trust fund didn’t kick in until I reached eighteen, I opted for the streets; the best place to keep a low profile, convinced I might follow the fate of my parents, though I had no idea what that fate was. It was up to me to learn more about these entities and how they were connected to my parents if I were going to reclaim my life.

For now, I used my time on the streets to learn about them, even as I continued to be frustrated by the weakness that kept me from getting close enough for solid answers.

Chapter 2

I had no doubt I’d be worse off without the empathic canine looking after me and having him to care for. I didn’t think of Harley as my dog because it didn’t feel right claiming ownership. He was free to move on, if that was his choice, but he hadn’t left my side since the day I opened my eyes to find his unusual ones staring at me.

Besides being the perfect warning system, Harley made me better at survival since I did it for two. I got clever at living in my chosen environment, picking the best places to sleep, learning which to avoid, and which had the best handouts.

We stopped at one of those now. I pushed the buzzer for two half notes. In seconds, the heavy door opened a crack, and Ezra squinted his bulbous eye through it to peer at me. The scent of savory foods sizzling on a smoky grill wafted through the crack.

“Why, Miss Raelyn, and Harley.” The door opened wider, expanding the view to include his broad smile, dark face, and short black hair sprinkled with white. He thrust a grease-stained bag out the door. “I saved this for you. Somehow, I knew you’d be by today. You look tuckered out.”

I couldn’t help my smile. “This will go a long way towards fixing that, and I can’t thank you enough.” He waited expectantly.

Digging through my layered shirts to another pocket, I pulled out a silvery coin. “I made a trade for this buffalo head nickel. It’s in amazing condition.”

“Hmmm. 1920. That’s my earliest yet. Thanks. But you best be careful doing those trades, you hear?” Even as he cautioned me, his eyes gleamed as they peered at the coin.

“Always, Ez. Give Tina my best.”

He nodded, and the bulbous eye full of sympathy stayed pinned on me through the gap as it narrowed, then closed with a quiet thwack. If Ezra had a say, he would invite us in to eat, but that was against regulations, though he broke them once during a torrential downpour.

Harley impressed me as always with his impeccable manners when he refrained from sniffing at the sack swinging next to his nose. He would only have to suffer for two blocks before we reached our favorite beachside bench in the park. But we were delayed a little longer when I spied familiar mismatched boots sticking out from the other side of a trash can. Harley whined and went to nudge his friend.

“Aw, Hector,” I murmured, as I knelt by a man who was probably only thirty-five, but looked twice that age, and reached for his pulse. It was faint. I patted his face and shook him gently by the shoulder. The sour smell of sickness pushed at my nostrils, but I’d learned how to breathe past these things.

“Come on, Hector. Let’s get you to the clinic.” There was no response, but I kept at it until his eyes slitted open, fluttered, then closed again.

I reached in our bag for one of the four generous meatballs covered in savory red sauce and wafted it in front of his nose. His eyes opened a little wider, and my name came out in a croak between cracked lips.

“There you are,” I said as I smiled. When they weren’t red rimmed, his brown eyes were beautiful. “Would you like a meatball? Let’s get some water in you, too. I think you’re dehydrated. Doc Warden might like to take a look at you. What do you say? We need to get you back in full form at the barrel for story time.”

Hector fought in Afghanistan. His stories were tragic but fascinating, and he knew exactly how to insert a profound lesson into each one. It was ironic that the lessons he passed on were the very ones preventing him from coping with life after he came home… Well, the lessons, and the mortar damage to his body that got him addicted to pain pills.

 Another set of battered footwear appeared on the sidewalk, and I looked up. “Hi Annie.” Her warm eyes belied the sour prune-face that never changed expression.

“I’ll take it from here, Raelyn. Looks like your offerings did the trick. Howya doin, Heck?”

By now, Hector was sitting up straighter as the meatball disappeared, then the water. Harley licked his whiskered cheek and got patted for his efforts, and I sighed. We might get our friend through another week.

“Thanks, Annie,” I said as I stood. “He always does better when you go with him.”

Back on track to our bench, we soon had the rest of the sandwich split in half and proceeded to savor every bite while we people-watched; the best part, observing how carefully the watched avoided watching back.

I was used to these anti-reactions from my fellow humans who could never see past my ragged clothes to the person underneath. They preferred instead to pretend I was part of the beach scenery, the less appealing part. 

Sometimes they couldn’t resist Harley and threw him a scrap of whatever they had. I was good with that. Sometimes, they ruined even that kindness when they looked at me accusingly, believing my companion was neglected.

A slightly used paper towel rested on top of the garbage in the can by the bench, and I plucked it off and wiped my hands. People were so wasteful.

After tossing it back on the heap, I said, “I didn’t sense the man who changed today was dangerous. Did you, Harley?” He chuffed, then went back to licking red sauce off his front paws.

I rifled in my messenger bag that was perpetually slung over my shoulder, full of precious things like books and a journal. I pulled the journal out along with a pencil and got busy capturing the images from the latest encounter. The sketches did their job even if I wasn’t anything like a skilled artist, and I had amassed a collection of strange images between the thick white pages, starting with the night my mother went missing.

The man today was fine looking, like they all seemed to be. I thought the winged creature might be a barn owl, and it was quite beautiful. Other than changing and flying away, there was no evidence of anything nefarious, which by now I could comfortably admit was the more typical of these supernatural demonstrations.

Harley looked over my shoulder as I flipped through the images, and I could swear he noted the elements with me. Only a few depicted an entity using its otherness to commit a crime. I’d witnessed far more violence on the streets from my own kind.

Gooseflesh traveled up my arms. Just thinking the words “my own kind” freaked me out with all the implications.

Next to each drawing, I detailed the encounter, noting my reactions, where and when it occurred, what creature emerged, and anything else of interest. A pattern was forming, and a glimmer of hope fluttered in my belly. Could I possibly be outgrowing my annoying attacks and be ready for an up-close encounter?

Maybe it wasn’t them I feared, only what they represented. Who was I to think whatever they were didn’t belong here? But what was it my mother gave to the one called Max? What did they have to do with my missing parents?

It was time to engage.

Harley nudged my elbow, and I turned to find him staring at me.

“What are you thinking, my friend?” His one brown eye and one blue one looked knowing, and he cocked his head.

Then his hind foot reached around to go to town on his neck, and I shook myself. “Don’t you start getting strange. You’re my rock. Remember?”

I gave him a good scratching to finish the job. Then we set out down the beach to the encampment under the pier, where we had a slim chance to grab our favorite spot and roll out our beds.

Chapter 3

My eye cracked open, prompted by the beams of sunlight lasering through the palm fronds and slicing their way across the glittering sand towards the low tide. There was a dull ache in my back from resting all night against the rough trunk, and my legs desperately needed stretching after Harley used them for a pillow.

It wasn’t the most comfortable position, but it made me feel safer. All the good spots had been taken by the time we got to the pier yesterday, but this huge palm tree was a satisfactory second. Fortunately, the nighttime weather was mild like it often was in September, and my layers and Harley had kept me snug.

Scratching him behind the ears, I whispered in the quiet, “No one appreciates the dawn of a new day as much as the homeless, do they, my friend.” He sat on his haunches and grinned with his tongue lolling, then gazed around at our beach mates.

Our last encounter with an entity was two weeks ago, and Harley and I enjoyed the break. Still, there were a few times I thought we might have crossed paths with two of them, fleeting glimpses of amazing-looking Asian men, not much older than me. A shiver ran up my spine. My instincts told me they might be observing us, and I wondered if they could be the close encounter I was waiting for.

Laying my hand on the furry head, I whispered, “Do you think Josey will be good for a cup of coffee this morning?” His butt wagged. He loved Josey.

Harley went on his rounds while I packed our meager belongings and cleaned up as best as I could. We had our bath at the shelter a day ago, and I was apt to be more social in the days that followed. So, we made our way to 1st Street and Josey’s Java Hut.

“Come around the back, Raelyn.” She only had to turn and take a couple steps to be outside. “Chuck, cover me a few. Okay?”

“You got it… Hey, Raelyn.”

“Hey, Chuck. Did you catch some radical waves this morning?”

“How could you tell?” He beamed blindingly white teeth at me, even as he deftly operated the shiny espresso machine

“There’s an extra glow to your tan.” I got the chuckle I was going for, then went to meet Josey.

My friend was a surfer bum turned successful barista, and tattooed or pierced in multiple interesting places, which she displayed liberally with her regular costume of short shorts and a low-cut tank. She had long black hair that waved around her face, pulled back loosely for business. In about a half hour, the line to her service window would wrap around Pine Avenue, and it wasn’t just for her coffee, though it was the best for five blocks.

To Josey, the world was a questionable place at best, and she masked her dark-eyed exotic beauty with perpetual indifference. It fascinated me that her blasé attitude seemed to attract her customers as much as her looks.

What smiles she had, she saved for Harley, and she gave him one as he pushed his head under her hand for scratches. “I’ve missed you two. I always have something for you this time of day. Why don’t you come by more often?”

“Riff raff like me could cause you trouble, Josey. You know how it is. We mix things up to draw less attention. But Harley and I dream about your breakfast burritos, and I drooled all the way here thinking about your coffee. Getting a few minutes to say hello is a bonus. Is everything good?”

“Possibly. I just opened a shop on Ocean.” I cocked my head, and she sighed. “I know. Josey’s needs a Josey. I plan to split my time between the two. It was your idea, remember? You sure you don’t want a job?”

“Again, too much attention, but if I could work, it’s exactly what I’d want to do.

“You would be good for business, kid. Someday I’m going to see the beauty hiding under those grimy sacks you call clothes.” She was one to talk, and I let her read that thought.

She gave me a rare grin, and said, “I hope you change your mind.”

Two entities caught my eye as they headed to the end of the line, and Josey noticed my hitched breath. “What is it? You look like you saw a ghost.”

I laughed. “Sort of. I thought I recognized someone. Well, the line is doing its thing and Chuck looks worried. I promise not to wait so long for another visit. Here’s something to hold you over until then.”

My eyes stayed fixed on the entities as they chatted together in line, looking like regular humans to anyone but me, while I reached in my pocket for a dozen classic soda can tabs. I turned back to Josey in time to catch her eyes lighting up. She loved all things vintage and used the tabs to make fairy light garlands for her patio.

“Thanks! Be safe and don’t be a stranger.” She knelt on her knee to cup her hands around Harley’s muzzle, then kissed him on the nose. “You keep your beautiful eyes on her, Harley Dog.”

After grabbing the coffee and burritos from Chuck, who thrust them at me before rushing back to the counter, we went as far as the bench on the other side of the line, miraculously free of customers.

No one seemed to mind me sticking around, so I sat and watched the two entities over my heavenly smelling coffee while I scarfed my spicy egg-filled tortilla. They were the youngest yet, and clearly related. They moved like jungle cats.

My jaw clenched as I made my decision to follow them, though I wasn’t anything like a jungle cat, and I wondered how Harley and I might suddenly turn stealthy. It was then I noticed Harley’s eyes on them as he chewed on the last of his burrito.

“You have no idea how many times a day I wish I could read your thoughts, fur face.”

He looked at me, then stood when they reached the counter and got their coffees. They headed down 1st Street, and my mouth dropped open when Harley motioned with his head for me to follow. Well, okay then.

***

We pretty much sucked at this. Only five blocks and we lost them. I should speak for myself. It was my ineptitude that held us back. Harley would still be on their tail if it were up to him.

My shoulders sagged. “It was a good idea. If I’m going to engage with entities, it’s preferable they’re closer to my age. But these two seem to be on a mission. Have you ever seen anyone disappear so completely?” I could swear Harley let out a sigh.

They were in front of us one minute and gone the next, making me wonder if we’d been made. And now I was in a part of town that made me nervous as we were too close to my old neighborhood in Belmont Shores.

“You feel like a jaunt in the dog park? It’s been a while.” The mismatched eyes looked thoughtful, then he pointed us towards Park Avenue.

Initially, we moved at a good clip to get a comfortable distance from where I’d been born. Too many memories, and something telling me it wasn’t the best idea to be seen there. By whom, I couldn’t say.

Once we were clear, I relaxed, and we even stopped at the crab shack. Though we just had breakfast, I could still chow down on a crab salad. When you were homeless, sometimes you stored up, like a squirrel. But Jimmy was only good for hydration today, and he let me have a Coke and a bottle of water for Harley.

By the time we reached 5th Street, I was sure we were being followed.

Harley had the same idea because he pressed closer to me, urging me to move faster and aiming us for the trees past the lagoon.

If someone was after us, I wasn’t sure disappearing in the dog park at the top of the golf course was the best idea. But Harley seemed to disagree. When did he start making the decisions? Still, I let him take the lead, trusting his instincts.

We reached a thick stand of woods just as the punks following us let themselves be known. Shit. There were five of them. That was a bit overkill for a mugging, and they couldn’t be after me for other things lowlifes like them might be after. I was lower than they were. It must be my blood they wanted, and I couldn’t imagine why.

Fear for Harley became my dominant emotion, but it also made me determined. Reaching in the depths of my shirts, I retrieved my knife. Though I told myself often I was prepared to use it, I’d never harmed a soul, but I spent endless hours practicing my aim. I didn’t dwell on the fact it was one knife against five men.

Harley had a different plan, apparently deciding we should stay out of sight, and I followed him down an embankment to a ditch that tunneled under the golf cart track. Then we shimmied through to the other side and disappeared into another stand of trees.

But it was only minutes when a cold, flat voice called out, “How long do you plan to play hide-and-seek? We can keep at it all day. Can you? You might as well get it over with.”

“What do you want?”

“You know. We’ll make it quick. We’re just here to do a job.”

“Who for?”

“It doesn’t matter. You won’t be around to care.”

“I bet you don’t even know.”

“That doesn’t matter, either.”

Harley kept us moving during our chat, but they were getting closer. They also split up and two came at us from one side, three from the other.

Just as expected, they had blades of their own. I tried to be grateful it wasn’t guns. The one closest eyed Harley, who was baring white canines in a growl. Nope. That wasn’t happening.

“You leave the dog out of this. If it’s me you want, come and get me.”

Obviously, a meth user, judging by his missing teeth, he turned a pathetic leer on me. “Like I said. We’ll make it quick. Then you won’t have to worry anymore about being a street loser.”

My heart gave a jolt when, utterly noiseless, one of the objects of my failed spy mission stepped into view. The other one appeared behind the gang. Elation and trepidation flooded me at once. This could go any number of ways.

The faces they turned on my stalkers gave me pause. I would not want to be on the receiving end of those steely eyes.

But the idiot who’d been goading me said, “What’s this? Looks like we’re in for more fun on this job.”

 In a thick Japanese accent, the entity nearest me said, as if speaking to a normal acquaintance, “If you want to call it fun, we’ll be happy to make your day.”

Without looking my way, he said, “Take Harley and go, Raelyn.”

His familiarity with our names made me freeze, until he said in a tone that brooked no argument, though it was still calm. “Run.”

We ran, but only after the grinning gang of goons made the first bumbling moves… then everything was a blur as two sleek bodies moved through them like whirlwinds.

Priss Starwillow & the Wolf, Enchanting Characters in an Enchanting World, all in 5,000 words.

I’m working hard to get this out to the world, and this weekend would be the perfect time to enjoy a FREE short story. It was a winner in a writing challenge, and I promise it’s a fun read, with characters you will love immediately. Click on the cover for a link to your Nook Book at Barnes and Noble. You can find it on Apple Books, Scribd, and Kobo as well. Those links can be found on My Books page. If you don’t have access to these online stores, email me and I’ll send you a copy. I would love to hear what you think.

Sharing 😄 Grab your copy! Today is the LAST day a Door into Evermoor, my YA fantasy, is FREE on Kindle!

Today is the LAST day my YA fantasy, A Door into Evermoor, is FREE on Kindle!  Come get you some portal story adventure with a magic revolver named …

Today is the LAST day a Door into Evermoor, my YA fantasy, is FREE on Kindle!

I’ll share my LOTR, if you share yours…

1978 Houghton Mifflin Company

Stitched by me on hand-dyed fabric with hand-dyed silks and cotton floss – finished in 2020. Elevenses pattern by Fiddlesticksau

2002 12-disk collectors edition – 16 hours of movie – an amazing 16 hours of appendices (Yes we watched every bit of it all the way through – at least one time in one weekend!)

Admittedly, this was not collected by us, but acquired in an Ebay bundle about ten years ago. Had to grab all that amazing artwork.

Okay – I’m done nerding out now. And thank you if you made it this far!

My pod people don’t want to come out… I don’t blame them.

Artwork by Jorge Jacinto

If you were a pod person (aka burgeoning character) just beginning your adventures in an amazing world of fantasy, would you want to leave it for the harsh reality that belongs to your creator? I surely wouldn’t. That’s exactly why I dive in there with them every damn day and come out only when I’m forced to pay the bills or feed myself.

I mean really. I haven’t met a single person who says, “get me the hell out of Hobbiton!” or ” I can’t take another day in Rivendell…” Oh wait… forgive me. Those are real, historic places…

Still, to fan the flames of creativity and keep the hearth fires lit in their lovely little fantasy homes, a different light needs to be shed on their lives. This means the creator needs to publish their stories.

The creator has tried hard to do that, publishing a short story filled with wonderful characters in a world that begs further exploration. It even won a writing challenge. Feel free to venture across the portal to the Tsuga Kingdom and meet Priss, Sam, Fern and Ebun, and even the notorious ancient crow, Old Murdock, in my free story available here. More of their adventures are in the works… if only they will come into the alternate light.

If anyone has tips on how to invite fantasy lovers to download a 20-minute free short story and give it a quick review, I would love to collect them here… and happy to pass them on.

Artwork by Mandy Jurgens