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You’re a girl. Young. No more than five or six. You sit on the floor, legs tucked under you. Mom perches on the couch, a blanket on her lap because she’s always cold. She props the hardcover book in one hand and holds it aloft like a prize. The cover has a sheen to it;…
Apocalypses didn’t happen every day, but once they got started, they had this annoying habit of going about their business.
Those who exercised reasoning were the first to go, followed by fans of survival shows (they believed they understood the wilderness, having never left the confines of their paved-and-plastered twenty-fourth-floor apartments and most ended up eating the wrong type of mushroom in the first week). The hoarders did all right, at least for the first while. And the jerks? They made it all the way to the end, because nature loved adding a thorn to a rose bush. It turned out that at the end of the world, those CEOs who couldn’t convert a Word document into a PDF did just fine in a dog-eat-dog-eat-rat-eat-human society.
Long before King Arthur and his round table, before the Vikings, Normans, and Romans–even before they called this land ‘Wales’, there lived the Faeries and the Festia. The Faeries were jealous creatures–greedy, and powerful. The Festia were companions and servants to the Faeries–human, mortal, and afraid.
The artefact came to me when I was a girl, in a brown parcel left on Mum’s doorstep. But the doorstep wasn’t Mum’s anymore, was it? She’d left two months ago. Neighbours whispered, saying she’d never return. I rarely opened the door anymore, except for the milk delivery. But the milk deliveries had stopped last…
How’d you like to kill a god? What about someone powerful enough to think he can become one? It’s up to Ros, a sea captain with a ship full of secrets and a haunted past, to figure it out.
The beast unfolded itself from the rock, splitting the waterfall and sending massive icicles smashing to the ground. The lights of a thousand spirits twisted around its night-black body in shifting greens and blues. It stretched to its full height and stood like a small mountain, then levelled its great serpentine snout to her, its great wings quivering around its bulk.
Devon half jumped out of her snowsuit in her shock. She’d been too trapped in her own thoughts to hear the crunching of boots. She eyed the small figure in a thin winter coat. The boy didn’t even have gloves or a toque on. His cheeks and nose were bright red and probably frostbitten. “It’s freezing out here. Where are your parents?”
A preview of Chapter 41 from Book 2 of my WIP fantasy book series, ‘Sea of Shadows’.
It’s a standalone chapter in many ways, existing as a flashback for one of my main characters.
A short story about an experimental physicist who spontaneously creates an extradimensional portal while on a date.
In this final chapter of the Wings of Chaos, Shale and her companions fight their final battle – and say some farewells.
www.alexisveenendaal.com
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