Category: Super Short Stories

Week Two: The Sword With a Name

455 Words

The wizard could feel it calling to him, it wanted to be free. If he could get past that sentient lump of vegetation at the mouth of the cave, the Sword of the Well Lit Road would be his.

The plant guardian had proven impossible to pass. He had approached the first time unsure of what to do. He had tried to reason, but the guardian gave no sign it understood. He tried to push past it and had been thrown hard enough to bounce off of the trees in the surrounding woods.

It had taken a few months to heal, during which time he listened to the sound of the enchanting voice emanating from within the cave. 

The guardian never moved unless someone approached. The wizard saw only one other attempt to pass. A strong knight, probably for some noble purpose. The armor was still scattered by the cave’s entrance. Strength was not the answer, which was good because he had very little. He had one more trick up his sleeve.

He strode in front of the guardian, who rose as he drew near. The wizard did not slow his pace and raised his wand. As the plant creature lunged at him he released a shot of fire that buried itself within the guardian’s chest. He watched as the creature burned slowly, then went inside the cave.

To his surprise it was not large. The Sword of the Well Lit Road lay glowing on a moss covered stone in the center. As the wizard raised the sword a pulse of cool waves washed over him,

“I, Robense Maenard, name myself as the wielder of the Well Lit Road! May it guide my path, lead me true and serve me always!”

“Of all the, my stars how did you even get in here?” The wizard spun on his heel, looking for the owner of the voice that was ruining his moment.

“Not with your wits it seems. I am the Sword of the Well Lit Road. I exist to guide warriors to glory. And apparently now you.”

“Excuse me, I slew the guardian. And besides you are bound to serve me now.” He tried not to make that sound like a question. Of his myriad expectations, a sword with an opinion wasn’t one.

“With magic, you cheat. And yes, while you live I serve to protect you as best as I can and obey your command. Now let’s go, the sooner you die in battle the better.”

The wizard sighed and slung the thing on his hip. He needed its power, not his friendship. He left and began the journey home. Soon he would be with his brothers again, and their real quest would begin.

Week 1: Insert Here vs Insert Here

216 Words

Any moment now, the feathered beasts would spot them. Maxwell had precious little time to get into position. One false move and the flock would be on him. He crossed his fingers and readied to sprint. As soon as Dodger gave the signal his team would move in. It was risky, but to save the two gnomes he saw before him, it was worth it.

In the heat shimmer of the afternoon, he saw Dodger wheel out on a toy tricycle. He lifted his hands high, clapped once and sped away through the vegetable patch. The chickens darted after him. Maxwell and his team raced in to rescue the bewildered gnomes. They were badly shaken. One tried to scream but to her horror no sound came out. Her mouth had not been properly painted. Poor girl.

As Maxwell ushered the pair into a cart he heard Dodger’s screams growing nearer. The team ran for the gate, escaping through the gap in the fence they had come in through. Maxwell stood ready with a wooden plank. Dodger sped as fast as he could straight past the group, still screaming. The team barely nailed the plank in place before the chickens arrived, angrily pecking the wood.

All stood frozen for a moment. Then Maxwell, taking the handle of the cart, began the walk back to basecamp.

Sophie stood dumbfounded, the only sound in the cavernous space was the dripping off the stalactites. There in the center of the dais, stood the very treasure they had come here to get. Unguarded. Grush, the ogre she had hired for protection, made to move towards it and she motioned him back. There was supposed to be a dragon.

The lair, she had been told many times, was a massive cave network, filled in each tunnel with various treasures. They descended the echoing tunnels, alert for any change in temperature. Despite the many variances in the local’s stories, all agreed the rarest treasures were guarded by a dragon.

So where was the thing? The further down they had climbed the greater the group’s nervousness grew. The goblin relic specialist, Patok, muttered repeatedly about a bad feeling. Sophie shared this feeling when they came to a huge room, so large they couldn’t touch the rock formations that hung like daggers above them. Like the tunnels the room was empty, save for a gold dias in the middle. On it stood the Amulet of the Rose Queen.

It truly was beautiful to behold. Made of rare elven metal the amulet’s large pink crystal glowed softly. Said to give the wearer the power to woo anyone, all Sophie cared about was the paycheck when she delivered it to her employer.

But, this was too easy. She scanned the room for any sign of a trap. Nothing but bare rock, her own team and an unguarded priceless treasure. Finally, Patok could wait no longer. The goblin tiptoed towards it, his hands hovering over it for only a moment before snatching it up. For a brief moment nothing happened. Then a cracking began.

Stalactites of all sizes began to rain down, morphing into dragons as they fell. Iridescent stone flew around the upper space, with more and more joining them. The group stood in shock as cries echoed loud enough to deafen them, then the glowing stone began to descend.

“Run!” The ogre’s shout knocked Sophie out of her shock. The team ran back up the tunnel, the grinding of stone wings in pursuit. The tunnel began to heat up and the ogre picked up Sophie and the goblin to sprint.

The trio barely made it outside before flames erupted from the mouth of the cave. The ogre didn’t stop running. Sophie looked back to see dragons at the edge of the cave. They shot fire and roared but they didn’t emerge.

At the bottom of the mountain the ogre finally slowed. They caught their breath at a stream. Stone golems? Sophie thought of how great the hoard must have been to go to the length of enchanting an entire cave network with personal guardians. Then also, who or what is powerful enough to do that?

“How long have you known about this?” Stacey tried her best to be empathetic. The look of confusion on the tiger’s face suggested this was a new thing. For both of us, she thought. 

It had started out  normal. Daniel was a local pub manager, one kid (she had two of her own, no judgment there), into standard family activities like camping and whatnot. His stoicism, however, came off pedestrian. She had been almost bored, when suddenly whiskers grew from his beard.

Daniel began to cough. Stacey reached for the water jug, freezing as Daniel began to turn orange. After a moment she realized she was looking at fur. The fear on her face was mirrored in his as he watched his nails grow and harden.

Without a word he fled to the restrooms. Stacey sat there holding the jug, wondering what on earth just happened. She barely registered the faces of the other patrons. After several minutes, she calmly set the jug down and followed him.

Thankfully the place was quiet. Stacey stood in the corridor trying to come up with a plan. She needed to find Daniel…the tiger. She ignored the thought that she was most likely the one in danger. A low growl behind a set of ferns near the foyer mirror made it a struggle not to run away. Slowly, she made herself turn around.

There, crouched as if waiting for attack, was a tiger. A rather large, rather sharp clawed tiger…wearing Daniel’s necklace. Almost in reflex, Stacey extended her hand toward the wide eyed creature. He whimpered softly and leaned into her palm.

“What should I do?” Stacey was lost, both for words and ideas. The Daniel tiger just leaned into her further. A hug, she could do that.

294 Words

More than anything else, Tanner wished for a snake. Venomous or not, didn’t matter. Maybe straight poison was the way to go. All he knew was the “humane” trap did anything but its job. The damned thing was still in the roof.

Scuttle, scuttle, thump. Possums had been bad enough. Tanner had seen his share of city vermin, but this was a new one. Possum…shifters. When he’d finally gained the courage to go in the roof, he’d been met with a strung out young man who lunged at him. Animal management had been less than helpful. Between them and the local police he’d felt like a tennis ball. 

The scurrying sound let Tanner know the shifter was still intoxicated. After two months he had gotten an understanding of the thing’s routine. Wake up, leave, return plastered, shift, run around the roof until dawn. Almost the same as his previous housemate, and just as regular on the rent. His resentment might have softened, but there were only two days left. Two more days and the cops had the right to arrest the shifter. He was looking forward to a silent night.

190 Words