The Wheel Is Broken: 10 Stories

By Nick Hayden

A Children of the Wells story collection. "He stopped to dig the pen from behind his ear. He wrote in the margins of that age-old book these words: The Wheel is broken. Yes–yes, that was the center, the thesis, the seed. If the structure which they had created, if the rules and systems which guided Jalseion, if the testament to intellect and ingenuity of the brightest minds shattered, that would be very near what he meant to write, what the dream sang. The Wheel is broken. In one day, the great city of Jalseion is broken." In 10 flash fictions, glimpse how its people–from the homeless beggar to the city’s Overseer–deal with the catastrophe and its consequences. This is a companion piece to The Select’s Bodyguard.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Children of the Wells
• Release date: Nov 15, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310136191

Nick Hayden

Nick Hayden has never known exactly what to write in his author's bio, but he's willing to try. Nick is married to his lovely wife Natasha, he is father to his wonderful son Fyodor. (No, we are not Russian.) Sometimes Nick really loves to write. Sometimes, he prefers to dream about writing. Most times, he enjoys reading things he's already written. Without a doubt, he has to write. He truly believes that fiction is a lie that tells the truth. That is why he writes, and that is why he loves fiction. He tends to read books published before his birth, though he is always willing to make exceptions. He tends to write speculative fiction, though he is always willing to make exceptions. Nick believes in the redemptive sacrifice of Jesus Christ and believes that Jesus is the truth. This may very well show up in his writings, but hopefully won't land like a piano from a third story window. Above all, Nick hopes that something here will inspire you, entertain you, make you think, or simply make you smile. If not, he supposes he'll have to keep at it until something does.

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About This Collection

This collection contains 10 flash fictions that take place during the Cataclysm that hit Jalseion in The Select’s Bodyguard, roughly in the order presented. Many connect to incidents or characters in that story. If you have not read that novella, perhaps these snapshots will interest you in the larger story begun in that work.

If you have further interest in reading of this world, check out www.childrenofthewells.com. Current published novels are listed below, with more planned.

Bron & Calea

The Select's Bodyguard

The Doctor's Assistant

The Well's Orphan

Jaysynn

The Fall of the House of Kyzer

The Rules Change

New Wells Rising

Call of the Watchman

1 - A Dream

Select Grigor awoke, suddenly, eyes upon the dark ceiling, mind still flush with images of brilliance and heaviness and noiseless sound. He gathered together the pieces of the dream like a man drawing his children close, and when he had firmly arranged them in his arms, his fingers tightened on their shirtsleeves so they would not escape. Then he rose and made his quick, birdlike way to his office, shuffling the images before him.

He pressed on the electric light. It was quicker than drawing magic for the same purpose. He threaded his way around stacks of books, old albums, discarded pieces of machinery, and a chair and end table that had fallen some months past. His desk waited like a burial mound at the room’s end, piled high with papers and journals, odds and ends. He placed the pages that were on the desk chair onto a teetering pile of others nearby, sat, pushed aside the sketches, found a blank corner on the back of some treatise, and began to write.

He wrote with his nose nearly to the paper. He scribbled quickly, in an indecipherable scrawl, pressing the words close. He ran the words around the margin, moving the paper like a woman pulling material through a sewing machine. He wrote for 10 minutes, then stopped.

He looked over his words, squinting to make sense of the compressed handwriting. No--it’s no good. No good!

He pressed his hands against his eyes, but the images were fading, slipping through his fingers. The words were dust, not the scream and tremor of the dream.

A half-drunk cup of tea sat within reach atop something vaguely recognizable as the arm of a sofa. He heated it with a quick burst of magic. Holding the cup with both hands, he sipped carefully. Just right. It was not easy to heat a half-cup of tea just right the first time, but he