Posts Tagged ‘fantasy’

What? It’s back?

Yes, that’s right! Part 4 of the Fan-Voted Story is back with a vengeance.

Unfortunately, no one voted last time, so I continued on my own. So, if you want to help shape the story about what is going to happen to Kayla, please vote down below. If you like someone’s suggestion, like it! I’ll choose the highest voted suggestion or, if there isn’t one, the suggestion that I like best.

If you want to catch up with the story, please go to the Evan Elias section of the Living Author’s Society page.

Back to the action!



They whisper of her, as they have whispered for six years of watchful peace. To some, she is a legend. To others, she is as real as the scars on their faces, the ruin of their lands, the screams that echo still as they try to sleep at night.

But now, though it is spring and the sun should be bright in the midday sky, dark clouds are drifting in. The wind grows chill and icicles form upon the leaves of trees. Children laugh as the snow settles on the ground, sprouting flowers covered in a blanket of crystalline white. They do not remember.

Horns sound from the mountains and the swift horses tear through the fresh-fallen snow. Above a great multitude in mail and fur flies the flag of the White Lion, billowing in the wind she has made.

They whisper no more.

The Winter Queen has returned.

Word Count: 149

This is for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers. Thanks to Priceless Joy for running the challenge and Ioniangraphics for providing the prompt photo!

Hello everybody!

It’s been a long time coming but Part 3 of my Fan Voted Story is here!

The winning suggestion from last time was made by Mandibelle16. Thank you for the suggestion that the ring was dark magic and there were consequences for using it.

If you need to catch up on the story, feel free to go back on the Evan Elias section of the Living Author’s Society page. While you’re at it, feel free to check some of the other authors as well, they’re very talented.

As always, please comment down below about what you think should happen and what you thought. The winning comment will dictate where the story goes from here!

Now, without further ado, let the story continue…



There is always work for loggers in war. Stakes must be raised to pierce the flanks of horses; ships must be crafted to raid coastlines; siege engines must be fashioned to penetrate high walls.

But rarely was there demand for so much work as quickly as the Prince asked for. The Serpent Crest raiders had raised a fortress in the center of a low valley, rings of hills and cliffs forming a natural fortification. From there, they struck like stinging wasps at the scattered villages.

The Prince wanted them gone.

“Madness,” one logger said to another as they hewed the forest until the earth was bare.

“Madness,” the lords murmured inside the walls of his city.

The Prince’s will was done, his logs stretching across the river.

“Madness,” the Serpent Crest commander whispered as the flood descended upon the valley, the redirected river sweeping away everything in its path.

Word Count: 148

This is for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers. Thanks to Priceless Joy for running the challenge and Loretta Notto for providing the prompt photo!


Brick-by-brick, the gardener built his wall, remembering the days when a white picket fence had been enough.

There was a flutter of wings and he turned, brandishing his trowel like a sword. A bluejay cocked its head to one side, looking at him in what he thought was a very judgmental way, especially for a bird.

“Sorry,” he muttered, lowering the trowel. “Thought you might be something else.”

The bird’s head shifted as if to say “And now you’re talking to a bird.”

“Well, what do you know?” the gardener grumbled. “You’re just a bird.”

He smoothed down the mortar and gently lowered a brick into place. It landed with the heavy thud of a slamming door.

The gardener brushed his hands and smiled.

“I’d like to see them get through that!”

He gathered his tools and trundled off, wheelbarrow toddling behind him like a young child being led by the hand. When he’d gone, the bird let out a chorus of song.

Over and under the vines crawled, winding limbs of green slithering in. A hundred glimmering wings filled the air. In the distance, a horn sounded.

The faerie folk were coming into his garden, wall or no wall.

Word Count: 200

This is for Sunday Photo Fiction. Thanks to John Brand for the prompt photo!


His bulbs caught the light of distant stars – a sliver of their magnificence, bound in flickering wire and gleaming glass. They burned bold and bright for year after year – as long as the stars stayed in the sky, the bulbs would glow, he promised – and people flocked from across the world to behold their marvelous star-spun light.

One day, the bulbs started to go out.

This is for Three Line Tales. Thanks to Sonya for running the challenge and Nick de Partee for providing the prompt photo!


“There’s an imprint,” the man whispered, breathing in the old leather. “An echo.”

“And what does that mean?” Melissa’d had enough of him sniffing around her shoes.

True, she’d told him he could do it, the events surrounding them had been peculiar (with peculiar being used as a euphemism for “bloody terrifying), and he was her best chance of getting to the bottom of it all, but did he have to sniff?

“It means that the shoes remember their previous wearer.” He rose. “They’re haunted.”

Melissa sighed.

Haunted shoes. Just what she needed.

And they’d been just her color too.

This is for Friday Fictioneers. Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for running the challenge and Magaly Geurrero for providing the prompt photo!