Dissonant Tides: Chapter Four, part 5

Farthow dropped off of the horse and pulled Dem to a sitting position on the street. He was conscious, but swooning, and gripped his head with his hands. “Are you alright man?! Open your eyes!” Farthow held up his oil lamp and saw swift blinking. “Bastard.” “Which way did they go?” “East. Probably toward the harbor.” “Damn it.” “What’s our status?” “I caught up with Colby. They figured out independently that passage was booked on a cargo ship. Some freebooter from Golice.” “Shit.” “Yes, you reek of it.” “You and that woman’s man joke at the wrong times,” Dem said…

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Moonsong – Prelude: Power

Because I am forced to be away from my home (and my computer, and all of my free time), I thought instead of giving another bit of Muramasa: Blood Drinker, I would give everyone a taste of what I wrote last year. This is the prologue to Moonsong, an epic fantasy story I began writing last year in pieces sent one at a time to the woman who would become my wife. Eventually the story grew so large (some 325,000 words) that breaking into volumes became necessary to pursue publication. The third I’m hoping to get to this fall, after…

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Tyrant’s Gallow, an Aphorism

            Below is another extraction from my novel, in this case a legend about an anarchistic town and its origins. I’ve preserved all the original markings, dialogue, and description from the narrative. About 1,500 words. Hunny’s manner had worked its friendly magic on the boy, and he eagerly answered their questions, feeling liberated to speak about the city he called home. They walked mostly uphill, and though the street itself was not terribly steep, the buildings around them rose up higher than in the square. Occasionally they passed a house that looked more like a keep:…

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The Microscope, part 4

This is the fourth part of a short fiction work, planned to be about 25k words long, set in my unique world. Updates should be coming on Wednesdays, but this one is a day late due to other unavoidable commitments this week.If you are new to this story, check out the previous installments here:Part 1Part 2Part 3 *** Felix was dreaming.  He was running down a long stone corridor. Cold sweat was drying from the wind of his spring pushing over his bare skin. There was a thudding sound behind him. Something was coming for him, and he couldn’t spare…

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The Microscope, part 3

This is the third part of a short fiction work set in my unique world.  Updates should be coming every Wednesday. Check out part one here: http://davidvandykestewart.blogspot.com/2013/09/the-microscope-part-1.html And part two here: http://davidvandykestewart.blogspot.com/2013/10/part-1-here-httpdavidvandykestewart.html “The fuck is wrong with you, Felix?” Victor leaned back in the folding canvas chair, picking at the tips of his white gloves as he carefully pulled them from his large hands.  His broad brow was wrinkled more than usual, a bitter frown forming a “v” between his eyes. Below that, broad pursed lips were pulled in, buried in his thick, curly black beard. Shera, a young yet well-worn woman,…

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The Microscope, part 2

Part 2 of a short fiction work set in my unique world.  I’m trying for updates every Wednesday.Part 1 here:  http://davidvandykestewart.blogspot.com/2013/09/the-microscope-part-1.html             Felix forced his breathing to slow in an effort to control his anxiety and stop his shakes. Laying prone, he pushed his face into the soft fabric covering his shoulder to mask the sounds of his breathing as footfalls from the stairwell amplified in their approach.  He pushed his bag, containing the microscope, hard into his ribs and said a silent prayer to Prometheus. “Of course my lord, tell me more,” a demure voice said. …

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The Microscope, part 1

The beginning of a short fiction work set in my unique world. I have a thing where my fiction just has to be read in Times, so sorry if the font bothers you. Enjoy!             Felix rubbed the rosin bag between his hands vigorously, making sure to get plenty on his forearms and the back of his hands.  He tossed the bag to Marta and proceeded to grip each hand to the opposite wrist, pulling hard and feeling for the familiar friction that meant safety during the show.  He had only ever dropped a partner once, and…

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