Happy Halloween Eve!

30 OCT 2018

Hello all! Bit of good news! My recently released short story, The Legacy, is currently sitting at #170 in Kindle Store > Kindle Short Reads > 45 minutes (22-32 pages) > Science Fiction & Fantasy
Go buy it and help me break into the top 100! It's just .99 cents.

The Legacy on Amazon


In other news, I really like the word Gasconade. It means extravagant Boasting. Good word that, I'll have to see about putting it in somewhere.

I recently found a story bit I wrote long ago. It's very rough and unpolished, definitely needs a lot of work, but it could become something in the future. Here it is in all its unvarnished glory:



***

The Rescue

As the rosy hues of dusk approached, Dunham the wagoner spied a small body up ahead at an approaching crossroad. Anyone out here was obviously in need of rescue, there being nothing around for miles in either direction. Dunham clucked his tongue loudly and drew softly up on the reins.

There, at the intersection of two small trails, was a young man.

“Good eve to you,” the wagoner said, as he drew his horse up alongside the young man. The stranger, for surely he was one, was dressed rather oddly for these parts. A little too warmly. One never knew what sort of person you’d meet on the road, but this lad didn’t seem to be a danger to anyone but himself. “Need some help?”

A face without whiskers looked up from the side of the road with a smile. “Why do you think I need help?”

Dunham took off his hat and scratched his balding head. He was a nice fellow, but didn’t take kindly to people complaining about help being offered. Kids these days, he thought. No manners. “You wanting some help or not?”

The stranger looked to the left and right, before him and behind him. “Yes, I would, thank you. I’m Fortune.”

“Nice to meet you. Name’s Dunham. Put your pack back there and climb on up here with me.” He motioned to the wagon. The stranger threw his pack in with the hay and other goods for sale, and accepted Dunham’s hand as he climbed up and sat next to him. Fortune’s hand was very soft against Dunham’s.

Boy’s never worked a day in his life, Dunham thought, as he lit a lantern and hung it behind their heads.

Sitting there at the crossroads, the wagoner turned to his new passenger. “Now where might you be heading so late in the day?”

“I know not, kind sir. Just that what I’m looking for is nearby. I’m hoping you might know.”

Odd one, the wagoner though, a very odd one.

“Well, these crossroads here lead to no place close. To the left is a low plain that eventually leads to a small, salty lake.”

At this, Fortune shook his head.

“To the right the trail leads up into some low hills. Nothing up there.”

Again, Fortune shook his head.

“Behind me is nothing for a day’s drive but more trail. Ahead, well, seeing as I’m going on ahead you might as well ride along and see what there is.”

At this, his passenger seemed satisfied. “Yes, let us ride ahead. It’s just my luck to run into you!”

Dunham clucked once and motioned with the reins for the horse to get going over the next low hill.

They rode for a few moments, listening to the sounds of the evening. “I’m looking for a friend,” Fortune said, looking around as they crested the hill. “He is supposed to be, uh, wandering around here somewhere.”

Dunham looked around at the deepening darkness. “’Round here? Told you already, boy. There’s nothing ‘round here for miles.”

“Is there a structure nearby?”

“A what?”

“A building. With walls and doors.” Fortune struggled with finding the right words. “A, uh, castle?”

“Nope, like I said, nothing around for miles. There’s Tun’s Tavern about a day’s journey behind me.”

“Has it been there for a while?”

Dunham shook his head at the question. Has the tavern been there for a while? What an odd question. “Ya, been there for nigh on half a century or so. It’s run by the grandson now.”

Fortune shook his head. “That’s not him then. Anything up ahead?”

“Wait. You mean he wouldn’t be there at Tun’s Tavern?”
“I mean that’s not him. He’d be pretty new here.”

Dunham was confused, but let it pass. There were many things that confused him, and this stranger and his talk was just another oddness that he might never understand.

They crested the next hill and both men saw a castle off to the left, silhouetted against the last of the sun’s fading light.

Fortune pointed excitedly. “Over there! That might be him!”

Dunham had had enough. He knew of no castle in the area. The closest castle was five day’s journey from here, and abandoned at that. Even from here he could see that there was some light coming from the castle. “I’ll have you off right here, stranger. I’ll have no truck with such odd happenings.” He thought of the tales he was told as a kid, of strange doing at dusk, especially at crossroads. He left the stranger and his bag right there, and put his horse into a fast motion with a loud “Yaw!” and a crack of the whip.

The stranger stood there, surrounded by the dust stirred up by the departing wagon. Although he was rather rudely dropped off, Fortune still wished the wagoner luck, which in this case manifested as a fortuitous wedding celebration in the next town over. Dunham was able to sell all the goods that he had left for a huge profit.

The sun’s light was dying quickly as Fortune started straight away for the castle in the distance.

*****

Night was well along when Fortune finally reached the castle. Lights shone in a few of the windows, and the large, front door was open.

“Hey Eddy!” he shouted as he walked in the entrance. “This is you, right?”

The entrance opened up to a massive hall. At his feet was a large marble inlay, with the words ‘Phortress Peripatetic’ inset with green striped stonework.

“Eddy! I think you’re supposed to use the letter ‘F’ for fortress!”

“Eddy?” Fortune looked around. “I’ve come to bring you back. We’ve missed you! How am I supposed to talk with you like this?”

There was a stranger at the dinner table. Something so strange as to be almost inconceivable.

***
FYI: Eddy is short for Edifice. :)



Another story idea floating around in my head:

The Romany are immune to curses. Non one can curse them. They've been cursed enough already. They have to travel constantly, being welcome in no one country. They have, though, made do with the terms of the curse as best they can.

Picture for today: something macabre for Halloween...