Category: Wednesday Story

The Mystery of the Disappearing Queen

‘You missed a good story in the inn last night.’ Helm shrugged. ‘I have little time for storytellers. They’re all liars.’ Tolg sat down beside the shepherd, both watching the sheep. ‘Oh, this storyteller is new. He hasn’t visited our village before.’ Helm muttered his thanks as Tolg passed him the wine bottle. Helm drank deep; watching sheep was a thirsty business. ‘Anyway,’ Tolg said. ‘This storyteller told us a new tale - about the Queen of Amboria.’ Helm stopped drinking. ‘Where?’ ‘Amboria.’ ‘Never heard of it.’ Helm swallowed, even though he was clutching the bottle in both hands where…

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The Hauntings

‘Come back,’ she said. I turned. There was no-one there. There never is. The voice comes at odd times with no real pattern or purpose. Like the visions of her, the mirages, the sightings – whatever you want to call them. They happen in various places both inside the house and outside it. I have seen her - and heard her - at different times and places from the attic rooms down to the cellar, along the remnants of the smugglers’ tunnel, as well as along the cliff and down on the beach. She speaks as if she knows I…

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Introducing the Secondary Characters

‘Hello. All right?’ ‘Hello. Yes… I’m fine.’ James looked around.’Er… excuse me?’ ‘Yes, mate?’ ‘If you don’t mind me asking, who are you?’ ‘Me?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Oh, sorry. I thought you knew. I’m one of the secondary characters.’ He extended his hand. ’I’m Pete.’ ‘Hello, Pete. Pleased to meet you. I’m….’ ‘Oh, I know who you are. No need for introductions from you, James. After all, you are the protagonist.’ James stood up taller, his chest out. ‘So, you recognised me, then?’ ‘Of course.’ The other man got to his feet. ‘As soon as I saw you introduced in the opening…

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The Authorial Voice

‘Well?’ She stood, arms folded, staring at me. ‘Well, what?’ ‘You’re the author. You tell me.’ ‘Do I have to?’ ‘Yes. I would have thought you would know that.’ She looked around at the blank page behind her. ‘Could you describe a chair for me? I could do with a sit down.’ ‘Sorry. Yes, of course.’ I quickly described a deep comfortable brown leather sofa. ‘Ooh.’ ‘What?’ ‘The leather is a bit cold. Could I have some clothes as well?’ I began typing… then stopped. ‘What sort of clothes?’ She shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Anything would do really.’ A knowing…

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The House of Ill-Repute

‘So, what can I do for you… gentlemen?’ The woman stood arms folded just inside the doorway. Sergeant Henk looked over his shoulder. The rest of the squad sidled away from the doorway towards the corner of the street. Sergeant Henk glanced over his other shoulder. ‘Sir?’ ‘What now, Henk?’ The new captain sauntered across the road from under the tree where he was sheltering to keep the rain off his new breastplate. The captain’s armour shone, even in the flickering light from the torches outside the house. Mrs Granch… er… the lady of the house wants to know what…

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Going Back Home

‘Oh, yes. I had one of those wizards in the back of my cart once.’ ‘Really?’ Grenk’s neck felt hot. He could tell the carter wasn’t impressed by wizards. Grenk was glad his official wizarding hat was in his travelling trunk, now balanced precariously on the load of… well, the load of whatever it was the carter was transporting. ‘Magic,’ the carter spat off to the side of the cart. ‘I mean... well, it ain’t natural is it?’ Grenk had slept through many classes on the philosophy and nature of magic back at the university. He felt that if he’d…

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Coffee Time

My coffee had almost gone. I glanced up and out of the café window. The snow was still coming down. I’d have to go out there soon, into the snow, back to the office. I couldn’t be late again, not twice in one week. She dropped into the chair on the opposite side of my table, dripping melting snow onto the tabletop, snow and ice forming small pools in the warmth of the café. ‘I made it,’ she said pulling her cap from her hair and letting the red curls fall around her shoulders. I smiled back politely and looked…

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One Last Time Around

It was dark. Dark and wet. Although, by now the rain had stopped. It was chilly too, now that summer was turning slowly into winter. ‘It’s dark.’ ‘Yes,’ Signaur agreed. ‘And wet.’ ‘Yes.’ Signaur hissed. ‘I’m supposed to be being quiet.’ ‘Sorry.’ ‘It’s-‘ Signaur turned. ‘Who are you?’ He turned a bit more. ‘Where are you?’ ‘Ah.’ ‘Ah. What’s that supposed to mean?’ ‘It means,’ said the voice from somewhere in the shadows of the alleyway, ‘that it is not quite that simple.’ ‘What do you mean?’ Signaur peered into the darkness and saw more darkness. ‘Who are you?’ ‘That’s…

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Always Remember His Name

Another day, another scene. Or, if he was unlucky enough, and the writer got into the flow, a complete bloody chapter. He was getting too old for this. Back when he started, it seemed like an exciting career choice, glamorous and sexy. To be the protagonist in action thrillers seemed like the dream job. After all, his father had been the man in maths problems. True sometimes he played a farmer, a train driver, a builder or some similar character. But all he did was carry improbable loads from one place to another, build awkwardly shaped houses, plant crops in…

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Just One More Lifetime

‘I do know. I was young once too.’ Penna had actually been young more than once. Quite a few times actually. But these were simple folk with a simple outlook on life who tended to set fire to things – or people – they did not understand. Penna had found that out a few of those times in the past when she’d been young – although, at the time as it turned out, not for long. These days she was much more careful, cautious about what she told people about her powers, her abilities. ‘I’m sure we’ll find them.’ Penna…

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