His fingers slid around the iron handle of the dagger beneath his cloak and he squared his shoulders, standing between his family and the men in the doorway
They were obviously foreigners, but, from their diverse appearances, they looked to be each from a different place.
Who were they?
The clothes that they wore were no pauper’s rags. They looked to be exceedingly wealthy, but that would beg the question, why were they here? Continue reading “God With Us”
“She’s a pretty little thing,” Eve said as she watched the young woman.
“She looks so tired,” Sarah commented.
The girl’s pale face and heavy-lidded eyes undershadowed by dark circles clearly reinforced the statement. Continue reading “Especially Now”
Doug made his way through the crowded corridors of O’Hare. His bag hung over his shoulder and the pain in his back letting him know that his body didn’t appreciate the long flight. He wasn’t so young anymore, but the sleepless nights had taken their toll and left him feeling far older than his sixty-two years. He trudged outside through the doors and a rush of cold air blasted him in the face. He pulled the collar of his coat tighter and glanced around. The sun had long-since set and the city was lit by street lamps and neon signs. Cold flakes of snow were just beginning to fall from the black night sky.
Doug waited for a cab, trying several times unsuccessfully to get one to stop. When he finally he got one, he slipped into the backseat and set his bag down beside him.
The young driver glanced at him in the rearview mirror. “Hey, where you goin’, pops?” Continue reading “Prodigal Christmas”
“I never really knew what rock bottom felt like before…but now I do.”
“That bad?”
Michaela shook her head. “You have no idea.”
“Well, tell me about it, honey.”
Michaela looked up at the red-haired waitress.
The name tag on the pink apron said Eileen and the pot of coffee in her hand sent up hazy tendrils.
Michaela forced a smile of thanks. “You wouldn’t want to hear it.”
“Sure, I would.” Eileen sat down in the booth across the table, Continue reading “Fount of Every Blessing”
Eowyn’s heart beat in rhythm with the cadence of Marachar’s hooves as they kicked up dirt beneath them.
Her breath came quick and hard and hazy in the cold evening air.
Her flaxen curls flew out wildly behind her and the hem of her dress whipped around her ankles.
The pounding hooves behind her sounded like thunder in her Elven ears.
She glanced over her shoulder and saw the Tachat warrior close behind her, Continue reading “The Cliffs of Roan”
“How long have you had that thing?” Jon asked.
“Hmm,” Moses pursed his dark lips and thought for a moment. “Goin’ on forty-seven years now.”
Jon laughed and shook his head. “It’s been well used.”
“What’s your Ebenezer?”
“My what?”
Jason stared at the pastor as if he were speaking Elvish.
Pastor Mac chuckled and leaned against the back of a pew.
The sermon was over, church had let out, and most the congregation had left, leaving the huge sanctuary so empty their voices echoed even though they spoke in low tones. Continue reading “What’s Your Ebenezer?”
Their footfalls fell noiselessly upon the concrete as they passed between the marble pillars that lined the front of the brick building.
Students milled down the paved pathways to and from classes, jogged out of dorm halls and hurried to a lecture about to begin.
The humans passed by them, walked through them, unknowing.
Argider glanced at a girl alone on a bench. Continue reading “Footsteps of the Angels”
She felt the blood trickle down her leg and the scent of raw earth whispered in her face. Pine needles pricked at her hands and agonizing pain shot through her knee.
Racing through the dark woods at breakneck speed with tears raining down her cheeks, Lana hadn’t seen the patch of rocks.
Trip, fall, and she smashed her knee on one of the jagged boulders.
A sob escaped her lips, followed by a primal scream that rose up from her gut and rang through the air, muffled in the forest like a wild thing trapped in a cage. Continue reading “How Far the Light”
Sold: one soul to the devil, he thought as he leaned back in his chair and stared at the final word on the page.
It had taken seven months of his life to write.
It was the raunchiest thing he’d ever read or written.
He hated every page.
It was nothing but trash…and it would sell millions of copies. Continue reading “Stolen Soul”
Whitney L. Schwartz 