#3 Faerie Wings

Title: Faerie Wings
Genre: Urban Fantasy

Today I watched my best friend say 'I do' to a girl wearing a high school cap and gown over her wedding dress. She thought it was cute. The rest of us knew it for what it was—a bid for even more attention.

The worst part was that I had to smile and pretend I was happy about the whole thing. She’d had the nerve to ask me to be her maid of honor.

I pulled my graduation cap off and tossed it on the table. Kevin owed me big time.

I grew restless while they danced with the rest of our graduating class. The music drummed inside my head and all I could think of was getting out. The new bride must have felt the power of my glare, because she sailed off the dance floor to sit by me.

Jessie plunked down beside me. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Headache.” I tapped my temple.

“Whatever. Look, if you need some air feel free to take a walk. We don’t really need you for anything now.” She smirked at me and it took all I had not to smack her.

I watched her return to the dance floor. With the arrival of the bride, the music kicked in with a furry while Kevin melded himself to her side and the crowd cheered. The bass reverberated in my heart and I fled out the back door of the reception hall.

#2 The Rapier

Title: The Rapier
Genre: Urban Fantasy

When I was a kid, I found a human skull. But that isn’t the bad part. It’s the nightmares and the screaming. And the longevity. After fifteen years, it should be ancient history.

Not counting the original owner, only one other person knew about the skull.

But he too is dead.

#

On some distant level, I knew it was only the dream, as familiar a place as the shape of my nose in the mirror. But in my nightmares, it wasn’t my face reflected in the night-darkened pool or my boots walking through the dry leaves. The hands holding the weapons know the caress of the iron. And my belly flutters with the familiar dread of the hunted.

The emotions are the same; desperation and the acceptance of things left undone. And my screams when utter failure is all I can expect…

And waking up in my bed.

With a groan, I slumped back for a moment, and then sat up to fight my way out of the twisted, damp sheets.

Just when I think it is all behind me, the stupid dreams, the yelling…

I brushed the hair away from my face, grimaced when I saw my hand still trembled and clenched it into a fist. With a muttered oath, I pulled my legs from the rumpled sheets, made the bed properly and padded to the kitchen.

Eva, my sometimes-roommate, sat at the table cradling a cup of caffeine in one hand, a newspaper spread open in front of her.

#1 Amber

Title: Amber
Genre: Fantasy

I knew before I looked that I shouldn’t. And I knew as soon as I had that I would wish I hadn’t. But I thought that if one was determined enough, if one possessed enough strength of will, one could somehow force the stone to show the truth, the future that would be. I was so certain. But as soon as I looked I knew how impossible such an idea was.

The stone is cool to the touch at first, surprisingly so. I am expecting heat, thinking of everything I’ve been told and all I’ve read. There is always the fire. And then in a moment I feel the heat, a tingling in my fingertips. I am looking at the stone and it’s bright, its surface glossy, like colored glass with dark striations. It’s heavy, too, but not so heavy I cannot pick it up. It is the loveliest thing I ever seen.

And then I see.

I see a deep dark cave lit by what light filters in, warm and sunny in the morning when the sun shines straight on, and eerie blue when the moon is full. There are markings on the walls, scratches and lines that mean nothing to me. Yet I know they mean something.

And deeper still the cavern, illuminated by fire, and I can see the flames wavering like tiny thin dancers. The flames form a circle and within it I can the see the stone; the Amber Stone. And I know it is as it was. Before.

I remember the tale, the tale of the five brothers and the one who went into the fire after the stone. Had he looked at it when he clutched it to him? Surely he must have. But what had he seen? Had he seen the truth? Or had he only seen maybes?

The tingling in my fingers becomes more intense and the image of the fire and the cave and the stone is suddenly replaced with multiple images, like memories, except that none of these things have happened yet and I know these are all just possibilities, future maybes. All I am seeing is this-is-where-you’ll-be, maybe. Anything I do or don’t do from that moment on will determine my future.

Pick-a-Page Submissions

Do you have a First Page, dialogue, narrative, that needs a critical eye? How about the last page of your MS? Does it need a little spit and polish?

Submit 250 words, anywhere in your manuscript.

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