The Last Song
“Really, Peter? You’d die for a song?”
My younger brother’s words echo in my ears as I reach for another sheet of music—the prelude to today’s final hymn. The knot in my stomach has nothing to do with the fact that I skipped
Tag - war
Regret
My name is Gaspard Jerome Masson, and I have one regret.
The last word smudged beneath the old man’s trembling hand. He drew a breath, then continued writing.
Her name was Marie.
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June 6, 1944
Rennes, France
“Gaspard! They’re coming!”
Gaspard shot up from his seat. Marie burst through the door of his small apartment
No Victory Today
Mark taps me on the shoulder. “Dynamite warm?”
Plants rustle as I reach down amid the overgrowth and into my sock, fingering the explosive stick and the wooden blasting cap filled with gunpowder. It’s warm against my skin, safely cocooned from the frosty night air. I nod, even though he can’t see it.
From the Ashes
Maire strode through the center of the war camp, head held high, one hand resting on the pommel of her sword. The phoenix crest on her scarlet robes identified her for anyone who still hadn’t heard the stories, and murmurs trailed behind her as people bowed and
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Granny Miriel to the Rescue
“Boy!”
I groan and pull my sleeping bag over my head. Something pokes me in the back.
“Boy! Why are you sleeping on my porch?”
The raspy voice and insistent poking finally force me back to reality. I sit up and collide with a fluffy, slobbery lump of dog. A wrinkled face gazes
My Hero
“Middon, report,” Chief Commander Phezznibbet Maplebark ordered his second in command. He adjusted his bandolier of knives, the leather strap rubbing his fur the wrong way as the fellow Xintixa saluted him. “At ease. What’s the news?”
“The Xintixling and her mother are being surrounded by the Bittlian in the western quadrant of the
Soul Engine
Phezz retrieved the last vial of poison from his belt. His mother had ceremoniously extracted the venomous substance from the tusks of his family’s herd of hairy and tortoise-like Jamjins for hunting. It seemed like a lifetime ago. During the peaceful times—before the Last Battle—before his brother activated the planet’s core defense
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Forging A New Path
Phezznibbet rested his elbows on the church tower windowsill, staring into the boughs of a giant maple. A light breeze caressed his fur as he dreamed of a quiet life running a treetop inn, a hint of smile tugging at his lips. Out of habit, his finger jolted to the dark scar that traced
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Veyhani
“Phezz recognized you as soon as you stepped through the door. Called me next thing. Interdimensional travel is nice and fast.”
“I—”
A calloused hand cups her chin.
Vey blinks, too ashamed to meet her best friend’s eyes.
“Don’t you think you’ve been running long enough, Zhemi?”
“I betrayed you, Davis.” Betrayed them
Not Just Another Fun Holiday
“Hello!” I flounced over to another group of people before anyone from the first could respond. “Hello!” Seeing their confused expressions, I chuckled and skipped down the sidewalk.
When I heard a woman speaking Spanish into her cell phone, I couldn’t help but exclaim “¡Hola! ¡Soy Leah!” She glared at me, but I was too giddy to care. I had a bet to win.
Step Right Up!
“Ladies and gentlemen, step right up!”
Darcy O’Connor winces as a loud female voice bursts out of the AI interface speaker. Her robotics lab used to be such a peaceful place.
“Only one ticket to learn your future!”
This is the AI’s way of requesting paper. Darcy keeps turning off Carnival Mode, but it always reverts.
Soldier’s Blood is Poet’s Crimson
Logbook Entry. October Fourteenth, in the humble year 2568.
Just last month, I gazed upon the old weapons and hovercrafts from the Great War. And I finished reading the faded copy of The Art of War two weeks ago. Never could I have imagined it was preparing me for my fast-approaching conscription.
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