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 MAPLES HAD GROWN

The wind prowled the world, restless, until it skulked through a maple grove on a hill and its memory returned. 96 satyrs had roared it into being at Dremain’s Hill, and 15 satyr kids had shaped it with dying whinnies as poachers cut off their hooves.

The maples had grown, but the wind remembered.

It crept down the hill and leaped down the throats of those who had stolen its homes and hooves. The poachers attempted to shriek, but the wind had stolen back its voice, and dispersed from their lips as both wind and satyr, themselves again and more.

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

AVAILABLE HERE!

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.

FROSTFALL

In the icy heart of the North, where the wind howled like a beast unleashed, there was a queen named Eira. A being of snow and darkness, she governed a realm where winter never ended. Her looks were as chilly as the icebergs around her fortress, and her emotions were empty, unable to feel kindness or affection. Yet within that emptiness, a hunger stirred.

Once mortal, Eira had lived when the world was green and the sun bathed everything in a warm golden glow. Betrayed by love, she had bargained with the ancient spirits, trading her heart for power. As the Snow Queen, she was feared, but even queens can grow lonely.

On a cold winter night, while she was walking through the icy forest, she heard a weak and clear cry that could be heard over the howling winds. She followed the sound and discovered a man who was nearly dead, half-buried in snow. His name was Kai. His dark eyes flickered with life, despite his shallow breaths.

Eira reached out, her fingers brushing his cheek. He shivered under her touch, yet his eyes met hers with defiance, not fear. Something shifted in Eira’s frozen heart—a crack so fine it was nearly invisible. She carried him back to her palace, with its ice walls and frosted floors, and nursed him back to health, and as the days passed, Kai’s presence warmed the palace in ways Eira had forgotten.

As Kai grew stronger, Eira’s hunger for his warmth deepened. She was drawn to him, craving the heat of his touch and the fire in his eyes. But loving him would destroy him; her touch was a death sentence. But the harder she fought, the bigger the hole in her heart became, until she couldn’t hide the truth anymore.

One night, Eira stood before Kai, her eyes filled with desperation. “Leave,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Before I destroy you.”

But Kai didn’t move. He stepped closer, his breath warm against her cold skin. “I would rather die in your arms than live without you.”

And so, under the shimmering northern lights, Eira kissed him—a kiss that was both a promise and a curse. The ice within her melted, and for a moment, she was no longer the Snow Queen, but a woman—fragile, broken, and in love.

Kai’s warmth surged into her, filling the void, and for the first time in centuries, Eira felt alive. But as her icy heart thawed, it shattered, and with it, the magic that bound her to the North. The palace crumbled around them, the winter retreating, leaving only the cold, empty shell of the queen who had once ruled.

Kai held her as she faded, his tears freezing as they fell. But in her final moments, Eira smiled—a true, warm smile—before she dissolved into the wind, a whisper of snow that melted into the earth.

Ever Avarice is an Australian Dark Paranormal and Reverse Harem Romance author who loves books and believes there’s magic even in the darkest of places.

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

AVAILABLE HERE!

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.

GOD OF WAR

Týr used his gold-clad stump to burst apart his mortal attacker—the stump made of the hand Fenrir had devoured. He watched with glee as its body burst into oblivion, splattering his already gore-soaked armor with flesh, blood, and splinters of bone.

Týr, God of War, reveled at the battle held in his honor.

Within the shield wall, men screamed their fury. Others screamed in pain. Jarls, berserkers, shieldmaidens, thralls, and heroes charged the enemy flank, shouting his name.

A slaughter ensued.

Týr rushed forth, breaking apart the opposing shield wall with a single swing of his axe, causing an array of armor and flesh to rain down upon them all. As the enemy fled to their longships, no chase was given. They’d fought bravely.

High above, the Valkyries made their way to Midgard’s surface to usher the noble dead to Valhalla, the flapping wings of their mounts—a testament to their glorious arrival.

Glancing upward, Týr grinned as he was half-blinded by the sun and a dozen pairs of white wings making their descent.

The surviving mortals shouted his praises, weapons of iron and steel wet with blood held high.

In the distance, the longships set sail into the gusting wind, their sailors promising vengeance as they rowed for dear life.

He hoped they would return soon.

Raising his stump in triumph, Týr let loose a roar of laughter that sent ripples across the fjord.

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

AVAILABLE HERE!