Seeking Stories

By Fae Corps Publishing, Raz T. Slasher, Serena Mossgraves and 9 more

Stories  By Raz T Slasher, Frederick Pangbourne, Vonnie Winslow Crist, John Tavares, Serena Mossgraves, Meri Benson & Marie Sinadjan, Christine T Kantaraki, Sergio Palumbo, Dmitriy Galkovskiy (Translated by Alexander Sharov)

Art by Vonnie Winslow Crist & Serenity Rose

Poetry by Purbasha Roy, Vonnie Winslow Crist, Patricia Harris

 

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Fae Corps Publishing
• Release date: Jun 1, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201836733

Fae Corps Publishing

A relatively new Indie Publisher, Fae Corps is all about helping the Indie Author find the magic in their art.. We are the authors and the small storytellers. We are all about helping the new and struggling authors to be seen.

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Copyright © 2022 Fae Corps LLC

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.

Printed in the United States of America.

Fae Corps LLC

5415 Raven Dr

Charleston WV 25306

[e-mail]

*Jhai’s tale is about a character in the Dungeon’s and Dragon’s world of Forgotten Realms. The Location is owned by Wizards of the coast. This story is based upon the characters in the game and no infringement is meant.

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Serena Mossgraves -

To all the gamers who fall in love with their characters enough to weave stories from them.

Serenity Rose -

To all those who create.

Patricia Harris -

To all the stories hidden in human form.

John Tavares -

To the memory of my father and mother, a couple who lived their lives well in two very different yet very similar worlds – The Green Island and the Hub of the North.

Sergio Palumbo -

To Bass, Fortunato and Tyson, the fiercely-loyal dogs of my youth.

Contents

Collect Calls from the Void By Raz T Slasher

Winged by Vonnie Winslow Crist

The Death Knight By Frederick Pangbourne

Woman with goblet waiting by Vonnie Winslow Crist

Water and thirst by Purbasha Roy

Grave thoughts by Serenity Rose

Before the battle By Vonnie Winslow Crist

Midnight Trail by Serenity Rose

Ghost by John Tavares

Goddesses By Vonnie Winslow Crist

Jhai’s Tale by Serena Mossgraves

Beyond the Roses By Vonnie Winslow Crist

Ground Zero by Meri Benson & Marie Sinadjan

Misty Town By Vonnie Winslow Crist

How I became a star by Christine T Kantaraki

Jagged Beats by Serenity Rose

Forbidden Love by Vonnie Winslow Crist

Wasteland By Serenity Rose

The NorthEastern Route by Sergio Palumbo

Horizon Line By Serenity Rose

Vessel by Patricia Harris

Rescue By Vonnie Winslow Crist

Yuletide Bestiary By Dmitriy Galkovskiy (Translated by Alexander Sharov)

About the Authors

About the Publisher

Collect Calls From the Void:

Requiem for Rydlaq

By: Raz T. Slasher

My voice filtered through the stale smoke of the seedy bar on 5th, like the siren song from days of yore. Everyone’s eyes were on me; everyone except for him. I watched him perform a circuit around the tables unnoticed by the captivated patrons; a small smile graced my lips in mid-note. If you weren’t expecting him, it was an impossible thing to witness. He’d be long gone before they noticed what was missing.

My fingers maneuvered each string of the guitar in ways not known to human physics. The crescendo I was building was a force all its own. The closing notes caused a woman to fall off her stool.

I shifted the guitar to my back and let the strap hold it for me. Taking the mic in both hands, I addressed the stunned crowd.

You’ve been great, I’ve been Seth Rydlaq.

I slid the mic back into the clip on its stand because only assholes with self-esteem issues dropped it at the end. Breaking a microphone that didn’t even belong to you was a dick move and venue owners remembered that kind of thing. Never shit where you eat, as the saying goes.

As I hit the stool, a drink slid my way. The cute little blonde that had been following me around, couldn’t tell you her name if I tried, had ordered me some penicillin to celebrate. I know what you’re thinking, and no, not the antibiotic. This Penicillin was a smooth blend of two different top-shelf Scotches with some ginger, honey, and lemon to keep it refreshing. It was my go-to drink.

Thank the Gods that she at least allowed me a relaxing sip before she started talking. Yes, I said a sip. Only monsters drink something meant to be savored.

You were amazing tonight, Seth!

I flashed my patented grin at her. It was an automatic reflex that happened every time someone said my name. It dazzled my friends and disarmed my enemies. Let no one say I’m not a master of my craft.

I do aim to please, I said.

Aren’t you bored with open mic nights at The Night Owl? If you’re ever interested in doing more, let me know, she said.

That caught my attention. I’d been feeling out the scene for three months now. Dayton, Ohio, is something special. It reminds me of a garage-era Seattle. All grunge and no apologies.

Define doing more, love.

Her bright orange lips curled into a mischievous grin. I noticed an odd glint in her azure eyes I hadn’t caught before. I made a mental note to pay closer attention to her.

We haven’t had a true bard around here in ages, Seth. There’s a high demand for a man of your… talents.

Now, the word bard can mean something different depending on who you’re talking to. Scholars define it as an inspired master of storytelling, lyrical poetry, and music, like Chaucer or Shakespeare. Gamers of the modern age hear the word and it conjures images of wise-cracking spell slingers that aren’t afraid of a good blade now and then. I’m all of those things and a little umbrella. How much was she aware of?

When you travel like I do, you pick up some great material. I just play and sing what I know, I said.

You do more than that. I’ve been following your… career for quite some time now, she said.

"Why are you telling me this now? I was taking sips of penicillin more frequently now, resisting the urge to become a monster.

Because I wasn’t sure it was you until I spotted your friend creeping around.

Well, fuck. This concerns me for a couple of reasons. One, I sometimes pay people to impersonate me. It keeps my image up when I need a break. The added layer of protection is a bonus. This is far from common knowledge.

Remember the guy I mentioned way back in the beginning? Her spotting HIM can’t come to anything good. That meant the mind-altering magic I employed during the show hadn’t affected her. It also meant she was resistant to Fae magic. Morgold is a changeling. More on him later.

Well, you have my attention… I left a polite pause at the end of the sentence, inviting her to remind me of her name. Her violet eyes narrowed and the corners of ruby lips curled.

I’ve been buying you a drink once a week for two months and you can’t even remember my name? Wow! You are as arrogant as people say.

I put more effort into my patented grin this time around and tossed in an eyebrow wiggle because I suddenly felt the effects of whatever was slipped into my drink. That was a first, and I found it pleasantly surprising. There were worse ways to spend an evening.

I allowed her to escort me to her car. I even tipped her a corny pickup line and an over-exaggerated wink for her troubles.

Hey girl, are you a 2006 Toyota Corolla? 'Cause I wanna get inside you and smoke a cigarette.

She laughed, I laughed, her car laughed. It was a good time. Wait, what?

Pardon me, miss, but I think something’s wrong with your car. I believe it has a mouth, I said in the best fancy old-time accent I could muster.

That’s because it isn’t a car, Seth.

Well, that explains it.

You know, I didn’t even care anymore. I felt fantastic, and there was a promise of adventure in the air.. She opened the door, and I crawled right into the bucket seat. I apologized to the car with gusto as I made myself comfortable. A seat belt snaked over my lap and clicked into place with a sigh.

She, whose name I still could not recall, tapped the wheel three times and whispered something to the dashboard. Suddenly we were flying through alleys, across highways, and down back roads like The Knight Bus from Harry Potter. Tuck and roll, grandma!

So, where are we headed? I needed to know what seedy motel bathtub I might end up in. She seemed nice enough, but that’s how they got your kidneys.

The Keeper has requested an audience.

Well, that certainly changed everything.

The Keepers were a group of beings that had formed and spread out across the world since the cataclysm. Their purpose was to monitor and record magical comings and goings. The magical community respected them. I’d run into a few in my lifetime. They were a strange bunch. I kept a polite distance.

"Well then, let’s not… keep… them waiting," I said; dad jokes a-blazing.

She remained silent, but the car groaned good-naturedly. I liked this thing. Anyone or anything that appeased my ego was all right with me.

I watched the scenery continue flying by, wondering how the evening would end after such an auspicious start. I absently hummed an old grunge dirge written by one of the modern world’s most famous Bards, Kurt Cobain. Something about Come as You Are felt right.

The car, or whatever it was, stopped in front of what I can only describe as a defunct public library. It was nestled deep in a dense forest in the middle of nowhere. A mental image of raccoons with library cards filtered into my brain distracted me. I snapped back to attention when she knocked on my window. I collected myself lazily and joined her in the outside world.

I followed her up to the dirty glass double doors out front and watched her press the button on a decrepit intercom three times. A voice boomed from everywhere, no speakers in sight.

Password?

She glanced up and to the right, at something I couldn’t see from where I stood, and responded.

Blatherskite.

Duck Tales? I asked before anything serious dared disrupt my train of thought.

Yeah. He’s a little eccentric, she said.

Before I could get in the obligatory Woo-oo, a buzzer sounded and one of the glass doors popped open. As I walked inside, I couldn’t help but notice how thick the dust was on the glass. Did you know it takes the average person just 17 seconds to draw a dick? If you were well-practiced, however; the time frame notably diminishes. 

I caught up with her before she noticed I’d lagged, secretly wiping the dust from my finger off on the inside of my jacket. Yes, I realize that I’m probably why we can’t have nice things. I’ve come to terms with that,

The side effects of whatever she put in my drink earlier were waning. I was determined to ride the wave as I followed, paying zero attention to where we were actually going. I caught glimpses of bookshelves, genre signs, and a candy land looking path that led to what I assume was the children’s reading section.

There