Category: fantasy

The Truth: Part 1

Trouble always seems to find me if it wants to go looking. It makes sense; my office can be reached from almost every corner of the world. See, all you really need is the right ingredients and the right incantations when walking into any investigator’s office. By the time the incense has finished burning, you’ll be right across the desk from me. 

See, every one of us had an aspect, a calling, something that defined us in the abstract. I was truth, and by extension I was the one the others went to when they needed to know the truth. It doesn’t mean I was always honest though. I was just simply inclined to find the truth, not tell it.

There were millions of us, I think. It was hard to keep track of at the time. You got to know those who worked around you, but that doesn’t mean that you knew anyone beyond your network. To be honest, I hadn’t seen my immediate network in a couple months. Most of them were of similar aspects, like “lying,” “honesty,” “knowledge,” and even “communication,” so they didn’t need my help as often as others.

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The Elf Knight

Sage nervously picked at his knuckles as he looked up the stairs, but he took the first step anyway.

Rosemary peaked around the corner of the hallway and asked, “You sure now is a good time?” Her long ears pointed flat, suggesting disapproval.

“I, I need to see Parsley. Ask him a question.” Sage spoke with a slight shake in his voice. “I really don’t want to wait.”

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Hoof Prints

On the drive to my new home, I realized that somewhere along the way I lost a button. It wasn’t a jacket button. I would have noticed that earlier, when the wind was stronger and we were packing the boxes into the car. No, it was a button that I found out in the woods one day. It was small, wooden, and had several nicks in it. I sewed the button into the shoulder of my jacket once I found it. My mom always says I’m a bit of a goblin, always picking up and collecting everything I can find.

“Honey, are you okay back there? You’ve gotten a little quiet.” My mom didn’t know about this button specifically, but she quickly realized I was upset by something.

“I’m okay, just thinking about things.”

“You missing the old place already?”

“Sort of, but I’ll be okay. I swear.” I answered her as honestly as I knew how to. I didn’t know how to explain to her about how it all was connected together.

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The Milk of Human Kindness

Alex began to unscrew the lid, gently screeching, of a small glass vial. He poured the contents in a circle around the table, just past the runes he found in his extensive research into the arcane and unknowable, which were surprisingly easy to understand.

He began chanting, as one does in situations like this. His particular chant was in Latin, specifically a dialect that has long since been dead, but was commonly found off in a northern set of mountains. As he butchered the consonants, which was not as important as you’d think, he started to light the candles around the table. The book suggested pure white candles, but Alex was hoping that the backlog of Yankee candles his mom had gotten him over the years would suffice.

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The Price of Ink

“May I come in? The rain is getting much stronger outside and there is nowhere else for several miles.”

Gregor looked at the tall stranger with deep confusion, but motioned for him to come inside. He spoke with deep generosity. “Yes, yes, of course, please. We can’t have you out in the elements. What kind of host would I be if I did?” Gregor started walking back deeper into his small home.

The stranger stood in the front portion of Gregor’s home awkwardly, dripping from his long dark cloak and wide brimmed hat. Gregor almost fell over, turning around so quickly. “I’m so so sorry. Please, let me take that hat and cloak of yours. They are absolutely soaked.”

The stranger shook his head gently and said, “No, it is quite alright. I would just like to warm up and dry off by your fire. I imagine that the weather will turn well soon, I can feel it in my knees.” Gregor felt warmth from his guest’s deep baritone. It felt like the voice of a friend he must have forgotten.

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The Emperor In The River

My boys like to play by the riverbed. They like to run around and pretend to be knights and bandits. Thomas likes to pretend that he is the son of a dethroned lord, while Gregory likes to pretend to be a gentleman thief giving back to villagers. Allen, the youngest, mostly sat quietly by the river bank and stared at the flowing water.

When I was younger I used to play with my brother by the same river that my three boys loved. We would skip stones across the river’s surface. Caleb, my younger brother, he would always try to find stones tall enough so he could skip across the river himself. I was not as brave, the flowers on the other side of the river would give me coughing fits. But Caleb loved to pretend the other side was his domain.

My boys always leave right after lunch and return right before dinner. Sometimes they arrive a bit late and I start to worry. I’ve had to be stern with them several times before due to their late arrivals. Thomas, the oldest of the three, he started to argue that he is getting old enough to stay out later, but not anymore.

One night, after they arrived late, Thomas and Gregory went on and on about their games. Gregory was miming a sword fight while Thomas pretended to die. I don’t like to raise my voice, but I had to to get them to calm down. They left Allen by the river.

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