Below you can read a few snippets from finished or work in progress stories. Follow the links where available to read more.
Silence grew deep over the valley, not a voice could be heard, not a breath could be felt. As soon as the last tired head tilted to enter his abode after a long day’s work, the sun sank completely.
Soft clouds of white smoke puffed contemplatively over the dark blue sky. A recluse star here and there shimmered over the vast desert of dusk. Their quiet sigh remained unheard by the stone walls of the houses below.
A velvet cat went sharply over the cobblestones, brushing their damp shine with its furry paws. She turned on one of the many lonely alleyways with confidence that not a soul would cross her path.
The cat stopped briskly, her ears pricked with fright. She hid into the shadows of the houses on either side of the alley. A most peculiar scene opened up in the square in front of her.
Read Chapter 1.
Read part of Chapter 2.
‘Grandpa Ioan might not be with us for much longer.’ These words pounded in Peter’s mind as he struggled to open the barrier gates with his train ticket. A wrinkly conductor watched him from under a pair of square spectacles.
Peter smiled as he caught a glimpse of the steam train just stopping at Blue District station. Frantic crowds of well dressed grown-ups gathered around its rusty frame. The green paint cracked as a round passenger opened the first carriage door. A dozen more people, some carrying children followed.
‘Wait a minute boy!’ the conductor erupted as he saw the violet ticket in the boy’s hand. Peter was now on the other side of the barrier. ‘How old are you?’
‘Fourteen.’ Peter gulped and slowly raised on his toes.
‘Are you – really?’ the conductor squinted and shuffled slowly towards him, as if wearing slippers.
Peter stood firm on his toes, trying to appear larger in his oversized wool coat. His chestnut hair curled as the silver engine puffed with anticipation. His dark brown eyes watched the passengers swirl through the train doors, like water in a whirlpool.
‘Let’s see your age card!’ the wrinkly conductor demanded and placed a heavy hand on the boy’s right shoulder. Peter looked up at the conductor’s hairy nostrils and tapped his pockets with the air of a businessman. His nose twisted as a scent of engine oil and musk reached him.
‘I don’t have it!’ he finally said. ‘I need to get on this train, sir. My grandfather is very ill. I know my way around very well.’
Peter’s heart throbbed and his fingers tingled with anticipation. The engine whistled, flaring up dark clouds of ash and flame.
‘You’re not allowed on this train, by the underage decree of Queen Avrig the Barren!’
The conductor coughed, as if finishing a speech. He then turned to a younger colleague, who had just arrived for the morning shift.
‘Charlie’, he ordered, his hand tight on Peter’s shoulder, ‘take this boy back to his care house.’
Read the whole story here.
Listen to/see part 1 of the story here.
Miss Alma Letterstone
“An old tall lady dressed in dark blue velvet was waiting patiently by the entrance. Her hair was tied in a high grey bun on top of a triangular face. Her pointy glasses shone in the light of a buzzing lamp, as she raised it to take a better look at Josephine. Without a word she turned slowly on the spot and walked towards the grand entrance with tiny steps. ”
(From Voice Mountain)