Capricious Symbols

By S. Lynn Hunt

Enter worlds of magic, love, pixies, and betrayal in this anthology by S. Lynn Hunt. Two lonely men meet on Halloween and need a little help getting things together. A warrior woman takes her young protégé on an outing that is much more than a test. A sorceress must fight her grief to lead a people bequeathed to her, and a traveler searches for the goddess that called her to the desert. Then read a sneak-peek of the first three chapters of the first book in the Strange Magic series: In Touch With Death. Faith Donovan is a Talented agent for the National Investigative Bureau - Talented Division, and she loves her work. Soon, however, the ectocog's past will literally come back to haunt her

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Oct 2, 2016
• ISBN: 9781365434242

Book preview

Author

Capricious Symbols

S. Lynn Hunt

Capricious Symbols

Copyright © 2016 by S. Lynn Hunt

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review or scholarly journal.

The stories within are works of fiction and do not represent real events, places, or people in any way. And resemblance to persons either living or dead is purely coincidental.

Cover design by Sabrina Hunt.

ISBN 978-1-365-43486-0

Sabrina Hunt

9818 Country Lake Lane

Bethany, LA 71007

www.slynnhunt.wordpress.com

To my old friends, those of you who have stuck around through everything I can put my friends through, and you know who you are. Thanks. For still being here.

And to the news friends I've made, you also know who you are, who reminded me it's okay to accept praise and to take pride in my accomplishments. Y'all can stop yelling at me now!

Introduction

Hello. I'm S. Lynn, and if you're reading this, you've made the decision to purchase my book. I'm not certain whether or not you've made a good investment; you'll have to decide that for yourself.

Either way, I'm glad you made the choice. I'm a student, and your purchase will help me immensely.

Thank you.

Within, you'll find a collection of four stories and three chapters of a novel that have filtered through my mind over the years. Some are pure fantasy in new settings, some places and people are more familiar. There's a little romance, a little magic, and even a god or two. These stories have nothing to do with each other, because I have something of a capricious mind, which likes to skip and bounce from story to story, from genre to genre.

So, from a gay night club, to a woman trying to lead her people through grief, to a traveler's search for the goddess who calls to her… I hope you enjoy these Capricious Symbols.

Once Upon a Time

Once Upon a Time sat in the space between two larger buildings, walls pounding with music and the life contained within. Brick and mortar trembled, sending red and white dust falling in powdery rain on the alleyways. The side buildings seemed to breathe heavily around the nuisance like two parents trying to subdue a child. The tyke refused to acknowledge them, preferring its neon to their brick. Dance and laughter went interrupted beneath an October moon.

On the street, looking at the club with eyes of awe and fear, stood a man in white and blue all trimmed with gold brocade. Save for the moon realness about his face, his wood-god dark blond hair, and a gaze flicking like a nervous deer, he could have stepped out of an animated world prepared to sweep a cinder-princess off to his palace. Except he did not own a pal-ace, merely a one bedroom efficiency apartment three streets north. The beat of life from across the street often called to him through many nights in steady, electronic drumbeats of dance and verve, but not until tonight had he gathered enough courage to make reply. Tonight he dared, but only for one reason.

Taking a deep breath, Prince Charming settled a white mask over his face and stepped into the street. Five confident steps brought him to the other side, and ten timid ones to the guard-ed doors. The two bouncers carefully considered his ID before deciding he was of legal age to drink himself into a stupor and wake in bed with a stranger. Not that he would do such a thing; he was not that sort of man. Still, when they handed back his ID, he took another deep breath and stepped through the doors.

Inside, the little lost prince found himself amid a scene of flash and pulsation, nothing at all what he had expected when he made the choice to don his mask and answer the siren’s song. On All Hallows Eve, he expected orange and black, skeletons and ghosts hanging from the walls, or a witch or two.

Instead, what greeted him were white pulsing lights shining through layered curtains of sheer silver material, a gentle fog blowing over the floors, and blue and silver balloons drifting without fetter. From above, on second-floor balconies, people in shimmering clothing with masks and laughing mouths tossed handfuls of something that fluttered down on the dancers below. Prince Charming held out a hand and caught some of the sparkling rain that turned out to be glitter. Despite the anxiety lodged firmly in his stomach, he couldn’t help but laugh. Balloons, silver mesh, glitter. It all should have been childish, corny. Instead, it lifted his heart just a little. Perhaps he could find his answers here.

Someone jostled him as they passed, then shouted a laughing apology. He watched them vanish into the crowd, a glittering fairy princess pulled along by her...or his—probably his—gleaming fairy prince. Both wore sheer wings strapped to their backs. Those wings shimmered, and the pulsing lights made the chiffon seem to flutter like real wings, as though they might take flight. Reaching up to secure his mask, Prince Charming dared walk further into the glimmer of momentary magic.

Couples swirled around him in the ebb and flow of dance. Anywhere but here these were odd couples, outcast couples, people who either had to hide their affection for each other or deal with harassment from those who refused to understand. Over by the stage, Peter Pan shared a dance with a dashing Captain Hook, and further down by the bar stood a Cinderella with her hand laced in that of a Goth Snow White. He even thought he caught a glimpse of a very large, very hairy ballerina in a baby pink tutu talking to a strapping young swan prince.

Watching them, the princeling suddenly felt very alone. Deep within him stirred the knowledge he did not belong with any princess, but he was not certain he could quite yet accept the entirety of what that meant. Around him, fingers grasped each other in desperate wishing the night could last, arms wrapped around waists as their owners felt the weight of the outside world threatening. Everyone here knew what they wanted, understood what their hearts needed, even if it meant exile from normalcy. Compared to them, Prince Charming felt unsure, tiny, and out of place where he sought refuge. Swallowing, he lowered his head and turned to leave.

You just got here, said a voice to his right as a hand came down on his wrist. He gasped and looked up through the holes of his mask. Greeting his tired eyes was the brilliant smile of a—well, Prince. Unable to speak, the lost one could only stare; his waylayer wore a suit of bright purple, as revealed by the flashing lights of the club. The man’s hair curled in tight kinks, short in the back and falling over his forehead, one curl in particular resting low between his eyes. White, fluffy lace spilled out from the long sleeves of his suit, and his bright smile radiated all the charm of the musical artist he emu-lated. He seemed to have missed the theme of the party. Prince Charming blinked, and finally managed to choke out the first thing that came to mind.

You’re not a fairy tale.

Prince blinked back at him, then laughed, the skin at the corners of his eyes wrinkling. Prince Charming felt his throat constrict at that laugh.

No, I guess I’m not. That would have been too easy and made too much sense. He just kept smiling that appealing little smile, a smile that made Prince Charming want to stay and want to run at the same time. In the end, he settled for a compromise; at least he could be a free man to decide to stay or flee.

You’re still holding my wrist.

Prince—or the Artist Formerly Known as?—looked at him for a moment as though the world’s largest bug had come to rest on his