Tag: dragons

Hawthorn & Ash #80

~ ironfaerie ~ Leave a comment

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Welcome to this week’s installment of many micro stories, ranging in length from 100 words to 500 words.

With each story we hope to deliver a little whimsy into the lives of our readers.

THE UPLIFTED BANNERMAN

“Ahh… that sweet summer breeze,” Waylan said with a contented smile.

He had been looking out to sea from the clifftop watchtower, watching the waves for marauding ships while the coastal winds violently accosted his hair and tabard. He took in the fresh smell of the salty air, the sound of gulls, and the ruffling of the great banner hanging beneath him on the remote structure’s wall, strapped down by rope to prevent the winds from taking it.

He never really understood the need for such a flag. The guards knew which land they were defending. So, he amused himself into assuming it was there to inform marauders and invaders of which land they were assaulting. A charitable courtesy to be sure.

A strange noise carried on the wind. He looked down and saw something moving across the water, too fast to be a ship. When he heard the noise again, it seemed beastly, making him realise he’d seen a shadow on the water. He looked up to see what had cast it.

“Dragon,” he yelled, before blasting panicked air into his horn.

Men soon charged out onto the grounds below while he quickly unlocked the mounted ballista. Someone would be up soon to help him use it while those who spilled out onto the clifftop grounds would make an attack by longbow.

Ignoring the arrows, deflecting off its natural armour, the red-scaled beast drew close, and with a flash of infernal heat, it unleashed flames upon the roof. Waylan managed to dive out of the way, behind the roof’s bulwark. The fire washed past as the beast circled around and went low.

Whatever was happening down there, the tower shook and unravelling ropes could be heard sliding fast through metal rings. As Waylan made to look over the edge, he was engulfed by the great banner that whipped up and wrapped over him.

Caught in the wind, it pushed him across the tower roof. As he made to reach low and fling it off, it inflated in the wind, puffing out, and lifted him off his feet before he could let go. Suddenly, there was no tower beneath his feet anymore. Gliding backwards and terrified, he saw the assailing beast blast its fiery breath through the tower’s entrance in a sustained burst that made the structure shake.

By the time his feet were close enough to the ground, the tower was beginning to crumble with flames licking out of its windows. Men were on fire, falling off the cliff, or fleeing towards the nearby woods. Realising he could either let go and run or let the wind-catching banner carry him down to the shore below, Waylan followed the gust.

The dragon looked curiously at the man floating down past the precipice, being carried along the coast by the wind. Assuming the creature beyond placation by flattery or begging, he awkwardly addressed the beast by clearing his throat.

“Ahh… that sweet summer breeze,” Waylan said, attempting a contented smile.

 

Barend Nieuwstraten III grew up and lives in Sydney, Australia, where he was born to Dutch and Indian immigrants. He has worked in film, short film, television, music, and online comics. He is now primarily working on a collection of stories set within a high fantasy world, a science fiction alternate future, often dipping his toes in horror in the process. With over eighty stories published in anthologies, he continues to work on short stories, stand-alone novels, and an epic series.

A discovery writer not knowing what will happen when he begins typing, he endeavours to drag his readers on the same unknown journey through the fog of his subconscious. 

 

If you enjoyed this story you can find it and more in the Hawthorn & Ash 2023 anthology.

AVAILABLE HERE!

 

Hawthorn & Ash #79

~ ironfaerie ~ Leave a comment

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Welcome to this week’s installment of many micro stories, ranging in length from 100 words to 500 words.

With each story we hope to deliver a little whimsy into the lives of our readers.

SUNSET SMILES

The day was gelid like all the wintry ones up there and a persistent fog fell upon the streets, a plumbeous blanket the wind in vain tried to sweep away. The  restaurants and cafes’ wick of smoke supplied a breath of warmth to the derelicts like Gary that staggered along the sidewalks night and day, refusing help from the charity centers. Despite his old age, he wanted to be free even in misery, too heavy the burden on his shoulders, too many the sins to confess.

The fellow was resigned to his doom; bankruptcy and decay were the righteous punishment to expiate among the cardboards of despair.

The process of aging had been quick, mercilessly ongoing; he watched the spoilt, arrogant gentleman flash by as if somebody else. Identification was easier with the middle-aged bloke already marked by poverty and vice and even more with the decrepit wretch, each year more bent and saddened.

Gary headed towards the town’s main square where his similar would sit on the cold benches, their lonely hearts watching time pass by on the enormous clock placed on one of the buildings; the temperature is always extreme, whether high or low.

Rest was the only thing they could afford, a lonely, silent repose that anticipated the final one.

 

That day, despair was hitting harder than usual. The beggar resolved to walk over to the river.

He loved its glittering whiteness, an alluring smoothness where sufferings were left out. The other bank looked like the promised land waiting for him.

While gazing at the shiny surface, he caught sight of a little boy and girl, huddled up in their bright coats, merrily throwing snowballs at each other. Their laughter, their innocent joy filled him with a long forgotten tenderness…

Rumors of  having a granddaughter had reached him once… Inexplicably, the thought made him shiver and his eyes reddened… Where was she? What was her name?

 The night he left his daughter and the most caring of wives flashed to his mind; their anguished cries blasted his heart… How could he have been so cruel?

An unfamiliar turmoil seized him, an unusual blend of sorrow, guilt and regret that quickly turned into a sharp pain.

In that moment, he would have given the rest of his life just to see the child and take her in his arms. Nothing appeared more important or purposeful than finding her.

Would he also find redemption along the journey? Repentance was already making its way through…

The resolution made him feel lighthearted, strong, as though his aging had halted to give him the time to reconcile with himself and with everyone he had wronged.

He looked up at the sky grateful for the unexpected, precious gift.

The sun was dying peacefully, leaving the horizon to the moon, still wan and timid, yet anxious to shed its benevolent beams.

With a feeble but determinate smile, Gary set forth on his quest.

 

Olivia Arieti lives in Torre del Lago Puccini, Italy, with her family. She writes drama, poetry and fiction. Her stories have appeared in several magazines and anthologies including, Enchanted Conversations, Enchanted Tales Literary Magazine, Fantasia Divinity Magazine, Forgotten Tomb Press, Horrified Press, Infective Ink, Pandemonium Press, Sirens Call Publications, Blood Song Books, Black Hare Press, Pussy Magic Magazine, Stormy Island Publishing, Breaking Rules Publishing, Scarlet Leaf Review, Iron Faerie Publishing, Dark Dossier Magazine, Paramour Ink Press, Black Ink Fiction, Raven and Drake Publishing, The Chamber Magazine, Sweety Cat Press, Gravestone Press, The World Of Myth Magazine.

 

If you enjoyed this story you can find it and more in the Hawthorn & Ash 2023 anthology.

AVAILABLE HERE!

 

Hawthorn & Ash #78

~ ironfaerie ~ Leave a comment

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Welcome to this week’s installment of many micro stories, ranging in length from 100 words to 500 words.

With each story we hope to deliver a little whimsy into the lives of our readers.

THE GRAVEYARD

The graveyard was choked with weeds, glitching Greg’s camera with bursts of static. Something scurried in the underbrush, but nothing was visible.

“It’s a mess,” he said. “Shoulda brought a weed whacker.”

Melody shook her head. “Buncha cowards.” She crouched, sighting across the weeds for the few tombstones poking above them, until she picked out the tallest. “There.”

And then she was gone, whisked into the weeds by the scurrying things, whatever they were.

The rest didn’t stick around to find out.

They just found bones deposited on their porches until all of Melody’s skeleton was reunited with her erstwhile friends.

Dawn Vogel has written for children, teens, and adults, spanning genres, places, and time periods. More than 100 of her stories and poems have been published by small and large presses. Her specialties include young protagonists, siblings who bicker but love each other in the end, and things in the water that want you dead. She is a member of SFWA and Codex Writers. She lives in Seattle with her awesome husband (and fellow author), Jeremy Zimmerman, and their cats. Visit her at historythatneverwas.com, on BlueSky @historyneverwas, and on Instagram @scarywhitegirl12.

If you enjoyed this story you can find it and more in the Hawthorn & Ash 2023 anthology.

AVAILABLE HERE!