Beginnings: an Anthology

YA fantasy short story collection

Paperback and eBook, 180 pages

Published July 29th 2014 by Creative Prose Publishing (first published July 26th 2014)

 

Creative Prose Publishing held a contest. I entered and won, tying for First Place.

 

Four authors, using a famous first line from a classic novel, weave their own tales. 

 

Enjoy the Silence

Young fae Zander only wishes to live in the human realm, and leave Ashwoulde behind. But his reckless actions in one night might forever change his world - and that of those who love him.

 

Excerpt

 

I kneel so I’m level with her. She smiles. A peculiar pressure builds inside my chest.

“What kind of angel has hair like a sunflower?” she asks.

“I’m not an angel.” Whatever that is.

Her small blood streaked hand covers her mouth. Is she laughing at me? Humans.  

“I got lost. Can I go home now?”

“Yes,” I answer. She’s distracting. “Can you put your arms around my neck?”

“Just like I do when Daddy gives me a piggy back ride?”

“Um . . . sure.” I nod. Is there a manual for understanding human-speak?

I lean toward her and she meets me halfway. I hoist her around me. She cries out, the sound stopped by her coughing. She is injured.

“It’s okay, dear heart,” I whisper. Mother’s bedtime words fly out of my mouth.

“’Kay.”

For someone so young, she’s brave. Holding her, there is just enough room to turn. Loose bricks stab at my back. These walls could cave in any second. “Close your eyes. Grab on.” 

Her fingers tighten.

“Don’t peek.” The child would see my movements as a blur, and they would undoubtedly terrify her. Positioning my body, I sway my legs back and forth to build up momentum before springing upwards. The soles of my shoes land on jutting bricks, which I treat as steps. Four, eight, ten . . . Each brick I jump upon seesaws in place before falling down. Loose dirt is dislodged, spitting out pebbles and soil everywhere.

Shielding her with my body, I land as gently as I can, and then sit her down on a nearby log. Think. The woods have grown uncomfortably silent. I don’t know why.

One leg kicks out as if she’s on a swing. “W-where are your wings?”