Realm of Magic

Published by

RhetAskew Publishing

a division of

Rhetoric Askew, LLC

15701 S. 257 E. Avenue

Coweta Oklahoma 74429

United States

www.rhetoricaskew.com

editors@rhetoricaskew.com

Realm

of

Magic

~

Writers Unite! Anthologies

Volume 001 - August 2018

fantasy fiction and poetry by

Daniel Craig Roche ~ Travis Stefansky

Susan Staneslow Olesen ~ Clara C. Johnson

Jennifer Booker ~ David Noe ~ Kacie Berghoef

Lee Benkers ~ Angela Lovelace ~ Christine King

Jessica V. Fisette ~ Brian Hagan ~ Megan Russ

Otilia Pricope ~ Jess Flaherty ~ D. A. Ratliff

Cover Illustration and Book Design

Dusty Grein & Rhetoric Askew, LLC

All characters, settings, locations, and all other content contained within this book are fictional and are the intellectual property of the authors; any likenesses to persons or places are coincidental and unknown to the author and the publisher at the time of publication.

Artwork, fiction, poems and designs, including cover art, logos and all other imprints are copyright by the artists, authors, and poets credited, and all rights are reserved. This work and its components may not be reproduced without the express written permission of the copyright holders and Rhetoric Askew, LLC.

ISBN: 978-1-949398-06-9

printed in the

United States of America

Table of Contents

Foreword

The Nymph

Harness

Dragon Slayer

Flame of Justice

Eternity's Forgotten Plan

99 Problems

Truth

Edna, Grace, and Alan

Brand Meeks, the Trick

The Space Between the Stars

Word Quest

Agatha's Eggs

The Return

Pity's Revenge

Winged Fellows

Citizen Cane

Ghost

The War Goblin and the Drunken Bachelorette

The Avantador

Anything You Need?

Reality Check

The King's Prisoner

Elements

Written in Stone

Afterword

Contributors

Foreword

Writers Unite! was created as a safe haven for writers of all skill levels to interact with each other and share information about their craft. Since its creation in 2015, the group has grown to over 43,000 talented and inspiring members. Through this amazing growth, we have watched member and admin alike transform from novice to instructor, more than willing to share their experiences with the influx of aspiring newcomers eager to make their voices heard but unsure how to effectively do so. Many lessons have been shared through our blog, with even more to come.

All this considered, it’s no wonder that we would end up here, ready to share a collective anthology from the diverse and intriguing minds that make up Writers Unite!. As editor of the stories herein, and fellow admin of Writers Unite!, I couldn’t be more impressed with the talent revealed within the pages of Realm of Magic.

Here there are dragons, nymphs, assassins, elementals, witches, fairies . . . stories of love, adventure, mischief, vengeance, and war—each story as unique as the author, each with the power to transport you to a foreign realm of wonder and chaos . . . of legend and myth . . . of magic.

We are pleased to allow entry to our fantastical realm through these portals, but be warned—there will be fire.

—  Jessica V. Fisette

The Nymph

D. A. Ratliff

Soft giggles drifted toward Ianthe as she snoozed, or attempted to, nestled in the branches of her favorite tree. Autumn, with its colorful transformation from endless green, was her most beloved season, and the meandering stream enticed her with its dappled sunlight reflecting golden leaves onto the still water. Annoyed, she peered through the leaves to locate the source of the disturbing giggles.

Along the water's edge, she spied a young man and woman stepping gingerly through the leaves. Ianthe remembered them, as they often walked through the forest. Usually, they strolled along the well-worn paths leading from the village. Today, they had ventured deeper into the thick woods. Flitting down to a lower branch where she could hear them better, Ianthe smothered her own giggle. The young man reached for the girl's hand, but she scurried a couple of steps in front of him.

Bella, you should take my hand. You might fall into the stream.

Facing him, the small, dark-haired girl cocked her head. I know you, Gratien Lacroix, and you just want to hold my hand.

You wound me; I am a gentleman, and I only wish to keep you safe.

Did you tell that to Lorelei when you brought her into the forest?

I never brought her here, or anywhere.

Bella wrapped an arm around a thin tree trunk and swung around toward him, her eyes glittering. Really? That's not what she says.

She's lying. He took a step toward the teasing girl. You know you are the only girl in the village I care about.

She released the tree and leaned against it. I seem to remember you visited the city recently. Are there girls there you care about?

No . . . He took another step and bent down, his face inches from hers. You are the only lovely creature to capture my heart.

Ianthe clamped a graceful hand across her lips to keep from laughing aloud. The lovely Bella had apparently pushed her luck, and now the black-haired youth was close to kissing her.

Wide-eyed, Bella shuffled backward, nearly falling into the golden water. She caught herself on a narrow sapling and regained her composure.

My cousin tells me you are going to study at the university in the city. That means you will leave soon, does it not?

Your cousin is correct. I am going to the university next month.

Bella turned, her silk skirt twirling around her, and leaped across a fallen tree trunk. Then there will be many lovely 'creatures' for you there.

Gratien jumped across the fallen trunk. Do not run from me; you know we are destined to be together.

He took two quick steps toward her and Bella grinned. You'll have to catch me.

Light on her feet, Bella would have escaped, if a partially submerged tree branch hadn't sprung from the water and blocked her way. Stopping abruptly, she teetered at the edge of the stream.

As her momentum pushed her forward, Gratien's arms encircled her and pulled her to safety.

Breathless, she clung to him.

He whispered, I told you we were destined to be together. Lifting her chin, he kissed her gently, then pulled her close, gazing into the stream. His eyes widened as he spotted Ianthe's reflection.

Gratien's head snapped up as he searched for her in the golden leaves, and the wood nymph eased through the branches, revealing herself to him.

Ianthe rarely allowed humans to see her, but she liked this young man's style and made an exception. Her waist-long tendrils of blond hair were entwined with flowering vines. Her leaf-green eyes sparkled in the golden light, and her flowing gossamer gown fluttered in the soft breeze.

He pointed to the sodden tree limb, which had sprung from the stream, and he watched it settle back where it belonged. Gratien's eyes questioned her, and Ianthe smiled, bobbing her head. The young man mouthed a silent 'thank you. '

Bella, we should return to the village. I must speak with your father, and ask him for your hand in marriage.

Standing on tiptoes, she kissed him. I thought you'd never ask.

Ianthe watched them until they disappeared through the golden trees. Settling against a leafy branch, she smiled—being mischievous was fun, but taking a nap was better.

Harness

Daniel Craig Roche

Dying was the greatest thing to ever happen to me. I know it sounds silly, but it's true, and if my Dad had gotten his way, it never would've happened. He let me ride a roller coaster. I fell out. I died. Simple as that.

Here's what happened:

* * *

I never saw a theme park until I was ten and my sister Bridget was eleven. Dad wouldn't allow it, no matter how much we begged. You girls know what happened to Jarod Fischer, he said with a tightening face.

Bridget rolled her eyes. Yes, Dad.

We had heard the story so many times we could recite it word-for-word.

Dad and his church group went to a theme park with about ten other teenagers. They spent the entire day there, eating junk from the food trucks and going on all the rides. The coolest ride at the time was the swings, which strapped you into a small seat suspended in the air. It lifted up and down, twisting the kids around until their bellies groaned. Dad said all the kids raised their hands and squealed, except Jarod Fisher, who screamed in terror.

Jarod was the smallest kid in their group. His tiny body slipped free of the harness and he fell to the unforgiving pavement. The blood underneath Jarod's body pooled in a thick red that reminded Dad of the last drink he had.

He hasn't touched a cherry slushy since.

Bridget and I braced ourselves every time we asked to go to a theme park. Dad would recite the story of Jarod Fischer, and Bridget would turn to me and mouth the words as Dad spoke them.

* * *

Mom died in early fall. We had the whole winter to sit indoors and dwell on it, listening to the quiet house, wishing Mom was still there to sing along to the radio in the kitchen.

Dad just sat in his room. We all sat in our rooms, and the silence followed us wherever we went. Winter passed, then the spring blossoms on our apple tree turned into tiny bits of fruit come early summer. Mom always looked forward to the apples. She made pies out of them.

I think that might've been what caused a change in Dad, because one Saturday morning in June, Dad told us to pack sunblock into our purses and dress lightly. He had a surprise for us and made us get in the car. I wasn't sure how long the ride would be, so I grabbed a few of my favorite books.

I always needed something to read.

Bridget brought her phone. Dad wouldn't let me have one until junior high, so Bridget took hers wherever she went just to rub it in my face.

It didn't bother me as much as she'd hoped. I just needed my books.

My pink bookshelf had nothing but Berenstein Bears books on the top shelf. Bridgett liked making fun of my collection because she preferred chapter books. I wasn't ready to let go yet. I still needed pictures to go with my words.

Dad stopped at Cumberland Farms, which always smelled like coffee and cleaning supplies. The smell of that store always made me sneeze and Bridget would pick on me for it, saying coffee was for grown-ups. She'd say I was allergic to it and, like my taste in reading, my sense of smell hadn't grown up either.

We bought packs of gum, soda, and chips. Our arms were full, but typical of Bridget, she wanted to push her luck. She dropped her goods on the counter and spotted the candy bars. Dad? Can I get a chunky bar?

You've got plenty, he said.

She pouted her lips and I cringed. I knew what she'd say next. But chunky bars were Mom's favorite.

I could feel Dad's heart breaking from where I stood, and it took all I had to keep from stomping on Bridget's foot. Dad turned away from us and pretended to look at something at the far end of the store, but I knew better. He didn't want us to see him cry.

Dad got a hold of himself and turned to me. Would you like one, too?

The lump in my throat kept me from speaking, so I shook my head. He let Bridget have her way, then walked to the coolers and pretended to search for a drink. I knew he'd be there for a while, thinking about Mom, so I turned to Bridget and slapped her as hard as I could. Bridget's mouth quivered when she looked up and saw the hatred in my eyes. Her shoulders slumped and she stared at the floor. She put the chunky bar back where she found it and turned away from me.

Sorry, Terry. That was all she said about it.

It took a while for Dad to come back from the coolers, so I shopped around and found some cheap sunglasses and a baseball cap. I had a feeling Dad was surprising us with another day at the beach, so I wanted something to keep the sun out of my eyes.

I put them on and wore them on our way back to the car. Bridgett said I looked like a celebrity who didn't want to be noticed, so that's how I walked across the parking lot, like a famous person who couldn't be bothered by anyone, climbing into Dad's car as fast as possible and ducking into the back seat.

On the way out of the parking lot, Dad peered at me from the rear-view mirror, his eyes red and puffy. You look like your mother in those glasses.

I held my head high after that, hoping people would look at me and remember how beautiful Mom was.

* * *

We drove for a half-hour, with Bridget playing on her phone and me reading. Dad had us cover our eyes the second he pulled off the highway.

Why? asked Bridget.

Because it's a surprise, he said.

Bridget didn't argue, which meant she was excited. She did as Dad asked, rooting around in the back seat for something to cover her eyes with.

Here, said Dad. He threw one of his bandanas at me and told me to tie it around Bridget's head.

But what am I going to wear? I asked.

Pull your hat over your eyes, said Bridget, like this. She reached over and jerked my hat down, hooking it under my nose. It reeked like Cumberland Farms and I sneezed.

Okay, said Dad, we're almost there. No peeking.

My body leaned forward as the car slowed down, then we stopped somewhere and Dad rolled his window down. A cool breeze entered the car and someone asked Dad for six dollars, then the window rolled up and we were off again, driving slower until we finally came to a stop.

Dad cleared his throat. Keep your eyes closed until you're out of the car, okay?

We climbed out of the car and stood by the hood. Joyous shouts came from the distance and I imagined people jumping in the waves.

Okay, girls, you can remove your blindfolds now.

Bridget and I tore the covering off and gazed around at a parking lot filled with cars, all glistening in the sun, then we both saw it off in the distance like a towering giant—the roller coaster we'd been hearing about on television.

Bridget was the first to squeal. Thank you, Daddy! She threw herself into his open arm. He held the other one out for me.

Together we walked toward the sound of happy screams, eager to become part of the noise.

* * *

Dad clasped our hands tight and he wore a faraway smile. Was he thinking about Jarod Fischer? People shouted and screamed, and I wondered if Dad heard Jarod's terror somewhere inside that faraway gaze of his.

A group of people squealed as a roller coaster dipped over the first tall hump. Dad's hand squeezed mine even tighter.

We're here, girls, he said. It sounded rehearsed, as though this were an act, like he just wanted to get it over with.

Bridget didn't seem to notice. She clapped her hands and hopped around as Dad paid the girl behind the ticket counter. Bridget had her phone out, snapping pictures of everything.

Look at all the rides, I said. Where do we even begin?

Dad's smile faded as he scanned the park. To me, everything looked big and exciting. I wanted to ride everything all at once, but Dad didn't see it that way.

Maybe we can start with something small, he said, like the merry-go-round.

Bridget groaned loud enough to scare away a pigeon. It fluttered off and she said, A merry-go-round? Are you serious?

What's wrong with the merry-go-round? asked Dad.

Nothing, she said, if you're a baby.

For once I agreed with Bridget, but rather than team up on Dad, I decided to let her argue with him. She'd get her way as usual, and I'd benefit from it without having to look cruel.

Fine, said Dad. What would you like to do?

Bridget scanned the park and settled on a