#DivineHell: Limbo

Lady Antimony continues to supply us with fun challenges. This week is all about Hell, burn, baby, burn! Unfortunately, I don't seem to be able to write seriously about Hell, death, or things of that nature. But I hope you like it anyway :)

“Welcome to Limbo, the first circle of Hell! I am Rowan, the Tour Guide of Hell,” a man in bright red and orange bellowed. “I’m sure you’re all excited to be here.”

Silence filled the room to the brim; a few of the damned ones shuffled their feet as they cast wary glances at each other.

“So glad to see so many happy faces.” The tour guide grabbed one of the damned by the shoulder. “You’re one of the lucky ones moving downwards. What’s your name and how did you end up here?”

“Edwin, I think I took a wrong turn…”

“Don’t they all, walk right off the straight and narrow.” He shoved Edwin towards the gaping black hole. Before it someone had placed two sticks supporting a low-lying pole. “Now go ahead, do the dance. I’ll see you down below when you’re through having fun!”

From the Depths from Haunted Waters Press

The Winter 2011 issue of From the Depths, a quarterly literary journal from Haunted Waters Press, is now available. This first issue of From the Depths features poetry, flash fiction and short stories and “pays tribute to water, the source of our inspiration.” It contains a piece of flash fiction called “Thalassa” (p. 21), my first published story. I hope you like it and the other works. I think the people at HWP did a splendid job with the design and the layout.

You can read the journal below by clicking at the Expand button or at Issuu.

Open publication - Free publishing

AntimonyAntics: The Proposal

Late as always, but here's my entry to Lady Antimony's AntimonyAntics challenge. It's another story on virra birds, “the rats of the sky” as they are known in Verannia. Please visit the other blogs too.

The lid of a box flew open, followed by a yellow coin and another. The bird dug deeper into the box. There had to be something of value here. Picking the lock with a stick had been hard enough. There had to be something here worth grain.

“Interesting.” The virra-bird flicked open the little box. Inside was a ring cushioned by a soft fabric, and a crumpled note. The bird placed a foot atop the paper and pulled it open with its beak. “Veeery interesting.”

The virra bird beat its tiny wings as fast it could, zigzagging past people. “Knowledge for grain!”

“Shut up, blabbermouth! I’ll pay you to be quiet!” Errol ran after the bird, arms stretched out to catch the nuisance.

“Knowledge for grain! Errol the merchant is going to propose to Ellie! I know the words he’s going to say.”

“Here, bird.” A soft voice called. The bird landed on Ellie’s palm and began pecking at the seeds. She looked at Errol, mischief glinting in her eyes. ”Well , how is he going to propose to me?”

Half a seed fell from the grey beak. ”He wants your arms to cradle his children, your kisses heal any ailment and you’ve got a nice ar—”

“Shut up, bird! That wasn’t on the note!” Errol reached for the bird, but Ellie caught his hand in hers.

“I do.” she said, dropping the grains and the bird. “Though you can propose properly back home.”

TuesdayTales 16 on Glitterlady's Blog

Read the other stories and take part in the challenge here.

I watch the men untangle their nets and curse when they find a hole big enough for a dolphin to escape. A smile crosses my face as I stand up; the last time I cut their traps they caught me and kept me whelved under a boat while the guards were coming to fetch to me. This time they could only curse and accuse me.

One of the men stands up and waves his hand at me. I can make out the words “go away” and “abomination”. I happily oblige, exchanging the view of the vast ocean for a sea of dewy grass. The breath of the ocean still lingers; I catch a drop on the tip of my finger and lift it to my parched lips. The sea itself is forbidden to me, for I dared to love one of its beings. Dared to…

My sweetling cannot exist above the waves and I cannot abandon the ones who raised me, my friends, those who need me. The humans try to force me to choose, but why should a shapeshifter choose between earth and sea, when he can have both?

Creatures of Verannia: Shapeshifters, Part 1

Continuation to my “encyclopedia” of Verannian beings that started with wurmtail hounds and dragons.

Besides humans and vrildrias, shapeshifters are one of the three peoples inhabiting Verannia. They are beings that are, in principle, capable of taking the form of any living being. The change goes deeper than appearances: the shapeshifter gains access to all of the form’s senses and abilities. However, spending a long in time in a certain form slowly makes the shapeshifter more and more like the form. If you run with the wolves or fly with the dragons, you become like one. If you spend your days filtering food from the water flowing through you, you slowly lose interest in everything else. Taking the form of a non-sentient being can be dangerous, because the shapeshifter may become trapped in the form.

Most shapeshifters have a certain form they prefer, and that form may or may not be human. The “true form” resembles their nature, feels right and corresponds with their aesthetics. The true form is chosen during adolescence. When a young shapeshifter has chosen and become comfortable with a form, he or she is considered an adult. Some spend most of their lives in animal form, living like the animal whose form they have chosen. These shapeshifters are sometimes pejoratively called feral shapeshifters or simply ferals, as opposed to the ‘more civilized’ domestic shapeshifters (also a pejorative term used by humans), who live among their own kind or among humans. For shapeshifters, it is not uncommon or unnatural to breed with members of another species. For example, a shapeshifter living among dragons may breed with a dragon. As a result, shapeshifters may have very curious family trees.

However, over many generations of crossbreeding, the shapeshifting ability may diminish in the lineage. Mixed-species heritage also makes finding a suitable partner very hard, because shapeshifters of different heritage may be unable to have children together. When choosing a partner, shapeshifters rely first on appearances. Though the shapeshifter form hides much, it can also reveal things to other shapeshifters. Colours and details added to their appearance tell of the shapeshifter’s values, way of life and heritage. For example, a shapeshifter with a dragon heritage may have scales adorning their face.

According to Verannian law, should a shapeshifter choose a human form, he or she must still be easily distinguishable as non-human. For that reason, they can be quite bizarre-looking. For centuries, humans have accused shapeshifters of ‘shape stealing’, the act of taking the form of a person without his or her will. Although these accusations are probably not without ground, many shapeshifters have been killed for crimes they did not commit.

GhoulsGalore: The Mouth

Fourth and last entry to Lady Antimony's GhoulsGalore challenge. Yes, it's late but here it is anyway. This week you got to choose your monster and I chose one of my own... The Mouth! Hope you like it.

I am The Mouth, that is all I need, all I am, the monster thought as it rose from its slumber. Tentacles flexed, snaking their way through the soft, moist earth of the swamp. Its huge maw opened wide, wider than the mouth of any creature on earth or sea. It had been centuries since the last time it had been awake.

From below a borborygmic sound made its way above the green waters. A bird shrieked and flew over the circle of curving teeth, where a black tongue twisted. The monster’s stomach rumbled again.

I hunger.

The Mouth strained its senses, but nothing worthy was near, only small insignificant creatures. The monster spread it tentacles further where the earth became harder and the roots of trees blocked the way.

At last it felt steps. Closer and closer they came, slow, tentative. The prey came closer, drawn by curiosity perhaps. Salivating, the Mouth waited for its prey, green drool dripping down its heaving sides. Just a little nearer...

The tentacle curled around an ankle and lifted the hapless being into the air. Screaming and squirming, the meal fought, but in vain. The Mouth lifted another tentacle, feeling the prey. It was shaped like a man.

Oohh, a human.

Without a second thought The Mouth dropped the man into its maw, where he was slowly dissolved by the stomach acid. When nothing else was left, The Mouth spat out the bones. Satisfied, the monster spread its tentacles and waited for the next prey to come.