B. Morris Allen's Blog, page 9

Beginnings 065 – Seven Shells

Darkness spread over the town of Eaglesmith, rippling over its sandy street in the long, tall form of a giant, stretching ten feet from wide brimmed hat to the toes of the Marshal’s high boots. It was noon. High noon. A time when vagrants and varmints and no’counts of all stripes lay away in barns and spring houses. Hiding from the law.
He stepped off the boardwalk into the street. His shadow stepped with him, flowing silently before to give warning: ‘Here comes Marshal Jared Jones with his...

Beginnings 064 – Feral Gnomes

“They’ve been here. I can smell them.” The gnome catcher wrinkled her formidable nose, nostrils expanding like bat wings. “In fact,…”
I sniffed tentatively. Paperwhites, a hint of apple blossom, the chemical reek of geranium. No gnomes.
“What do they smell like?” I asked with a smile. For all their reputation, goblins look more droll than dreadful, and this gnarled creature doubly so.
…

“Feral Gnomes”

About the story: What to do when a spray of feral gnomes invades your garden?

Beginnings 063 – Stamp of Approval

“And so, children, that’s how I saved the kingdom. Without me, all would have been lost, and you,” the old man’s eyes twinkled, “would now be slaves of the troll king. Or maybe,” his eyes widened, “his dinner!” At the last word, his thin arms arched out over the children at his feet, gnarled hands spread into crooked, knobbly claws that formed writhing shadows on grass and children alike.
…

“Stamp of Approval”

About the story: No one ever writes about the administrative heroes of fantasy.

Beginnings 062 – When Dooryards First in the Lilac Bloomed

The thrush led me astray. He with his puffed-out speckled chest and spindly legs, his impudent beak gated open and closed in song. He that stole my love, and left me desolate, cold, and lonely in the night; that secret, eremitic bird, with his liquid, taunting morning song. From high in the cedars, he sang my love away, and me awake.
In the week after the interment, he sang to me his joy of the spring, his pride in courtship, his love of life. It came to me as mockery, as cruel jest, delight...

Beginnings 061 – Some Sun and Delilah

“Pluck it out!”
The voice came from his right. He felt vaguely distant, dead to sensation. “What?” he managed.
“If it bothers you.” A strong hand swooped in, a tanned arm. “The eyes always get to me. They watch. Like you.” The hand selected something from the table, vanished. There was a slight pop, and a slurping sound.
…

“Consideration”

About the story: A unique punishment for malefactors.

Beginnings 060 – Consideration

“Pluck it out!”
The voice came from his right. He felt vaguely distant, dead to sensation. “What?” he managed.
“If it bothers you.” A strong hand swooped in, a tanned arm. “The eyes always get to me. They watch. Like you.” The hand selected something from the table, vanished. There was a slight pop, and a slurping sound.
…

“Consideration”

About the story: A unique punishment for malefactors.

Beginnings 059 – Adaptations to Coastal Erosion

It was after summer that Nora started to sink. Just footsteps a little deeper than usual; she saw them as she came back on her walk, comparing her outgoing, energetic pace to her homecoming, philosophical one. The prints were firm and well defined in the hard wet sand, but deep, and she tried to remember whether she had been running. But the toeprints were too clean, and besides, running, at her age? Examined, her memory yielded only sand dollars, seagulls, and seals. For a sand dollar, one...

Beginnings 058 – O!

“A soul?” The shopkeeper was a small, wiry man, with eyes the color of warm caramel. “I’m afraid not, ma’am. Not really in our line, you see.”
…

“O!”
Fantasy Scroll
Published 27-Jun-2016

About the story:

Beginnings 057 – Waiting for the Winter

She knows that winter is coming. She knows she won’t survive. But for now the cool air of a last fall is merely bracing as she looks down over the long dirt road, the fences, the walls. Beneath her, the hillside is solid, the grass still hardy and green over a thin layer of soil. Beneath that, rock and concrete, steel and safety. Against the blast doors, her makeshift barrier still holds. It was hasty, jury-rigged, all she could manage. Not proof against a real effort. Not really. And yet it...

Beginnings 056 – Put Your Money Where Your Mouth Is

Apparently Hades was better. That’s what Angie said, anyway. She’d never been there, but she said she had friends who knew. I had my doubts.
“Penny for your thoughts?” That’s Angie, always kidding around. Anyone with a penny would be long gone from this sea of mud and flesh, instead of hanging around by the one scraggly willow where Charon ties up his boat.
…

“Put Your Money Where Your Mouth Is”

About the story: What happens when you reach the Styx, and find you can’t pay the ferryman?