Author Archives: zreshicaia

Caged in Eclipse

The dragons of Vesperus concealed their might. Too often thrill seekers, glory hounds, and treasure hunters paraded into their lairs, wielding steel and stealth. They raided nests, slew brood mothers in their sleep, and emptied hard-earned hoards of all that glittered and shined. They stole away the scales, claws, and teeth of beloved mates, of brood mothers and their protectors, but left the disgraced corpses behind. They speared hatchlings through their shells. They drained yolk from dragon eggs and starved the survivors of their assaults. They pocketed countless vials of yolk for sale, sustenance, and alchemical craft…

Corban’s Life was a Series of Sorrows

Corban’s father walked out of his life before he was born. He was the type who wanted all the fun of courting with none of the responsibility. The news that Corban’s mother was pregnant was more than he bargained for. He swiped a framed photo of himself and his girlfriend from its place on the windowsill and threw it against the wall. The frame shattered. Corban’s father retrieved the photo, snipped the photo in half, and cut himself out of his girlfriend’s life…

Wylock and the Spinal Strand

Wylock awoke with a thought. He shot up from his bedroll and settled on his knees. His eyes darted about the chamber after his misplaced satchel. His jaw and shoulders drooped when he found the satchel at the head of his bedroll. He swiped the satchel from its place and clamped his jaw shut. How could he have forgotten the satchel acted as his pillow the night before?

The dreams distract, Wylock rationalized…

Marcel’s Monotonous Day Shift

Marcel squinted at the symbols scratched onto his yellow notepad. The bargain lightbulb screwed into his desk lamp was dim, even at its brightest setting. Marcel’s monitor outshined the lamp, but his colleague’s handwriting was no more legible than a five-year-old’s. His colleague inscribed the notepad with the data needed for their most recent project, but with no more dedication than minimum wage encouraged. Marcel’s eyes drifted from his colleague’s illegible notes to the document occupying the monitor. He sighed and navigated his cursor to the hyphen in the upper right corner of the screen…

The Crickets and the Cars

The crickets hummed in noonday sun. / Summer scorched the cool greens of Spring, / Dyed the pastures a warm, wheaten yellow / To match the bright, burning rays. / The frontliners of the season’s change / Signaled the crickets to emerge and sing / Their characteristic melody…

Harmony

Rokesha snuck to the far edge of a cliff. A hundred feet beneath her toes, the unforgiving sea chewed and eroded the hazardous rocks that ringed the shoreline of Greyfeather Reach. The rocks mocked the will of the sea, and the name of the town, but they balanced the elements of Rel and Quera, which protected the once flat shoreline against raiders from Ghesimbari. The Norbayahkatheermor of Ghesimbari reviled a mortal from Greyfeather, who stole and corrupted a daughter of the Mantle. By raising the rocks to block incoming ships, and to balance the elements surrounding the village, Rokesha—the corrupted daughter—bought the village time, and momentarily escaped Ghesimbari’s pursuit…

Yellow Hardhats

A withered man sat in a folding chair along the city sidewalk. He stared through the empty spaces of a chain-link fence to the construction site contained within. He wore tattered clothing, and his hair was never straight nor tidy. His ruggedness aged him. His misty eyes observed the workers’ yellow hardhats. The yellow hardhats bobbed up and down, while the workers tended to the build…

The Changeling

Crack! Thud! A branch of the apple tree broke. Something hit the ground beneath. Was it the branch? Or was there someone in the tree? The sound woke Lady Rena. The worry pulled her from her bed. She threw off the covers, stumbled to the window, and opened the shutters. She peered into the darkness, but the dim light of the stars could not overcome the shadows of the moonless night. Lady Rena saw nothing and heard nothing more. She closed the shutters and crawled back into bed. She scolded herself for letting her overactive imagination get the best of her, ignored her lingering concerns, and again, she slumbered…