Christian's Sanctuary of Succinct Fiction

When our lips parted and I looked into her eyes, my heart sank.  “What’s wrong?” I asked. She looked away, out towards the training yard.  “I… uh… sorry, Anna. I didn’t mean to worry you, it’s just that…” “What?”  “It’s just that I don’t know how much longer I can do this. I can’t eat, I can’t sleep. Am I supposed to be able to rest with everything going on out there?”  “Are you talking about the war? Why? We’re home now, we’re safe. Besides…” I flexed my arm and smiled. "Nothing's getting past me."  “I'm sorry, Anna. I don’t feel safe. I never do.”  … The sand was very nearly blinding as it whipped up and around. I stared through my goggles at the gnarled creature crouched in front of me. It dug into the guts of one of those pilgrims with the urgency of a starving ghoul, due to it being a starving ghoul.  No, don’t let it happen to you too. They were a person once, just…  “You’re not her, are you?” It ignored me and continued digging. I don’t k...

 The full length story will be available on my itchio page very soon. That page is christian-l-adams.itch.io  Gratian Frontier is a western, as opposed to straight low fantasy. This story features returning characters from Wald, Blood Trail. Only read this if you've read Blood Trail, also available on my itchio page.  Wald and the Gratian Frontier Chapter 1:  It was a somewhat quiet evening in the town of Loretta Dune. The wind had died down and the sun was following. I sighed and idly tapped the wooden table.  "What's wrong, Devil?" Asked Marlon, my right hand man.  "Nothing, nothing…" I replied. There was a moment before I spoke again. "You ever just feel pointless?"  "What do you mean?"  "Like that we're pointless. Everything we do is pointless."  "No, not at all." He looked nervously at the rest of the gang. "You gotta be more careful with that talk."  "Oh, they can shove off for all I care....

       The story of 'Silly' Jean Muckelberry's death is a tricky one to tell. On the afternoon of August 18th, 20XX, 'Bigman' Royal Doyle entered the town of Rickety hoping to sell a sizable dust rat he had trapped. Doyle had recently been run over by a car and was experiencing multiple symptoms of an untreated concussion.      In the market square, the nephew, Rick Rickety, of the mayor had tripped and fallen, seemingly dying in the process. This happened just a few minutes before Doyle showed up. In the crowd was 'Silly' Jean Muckelberry, wearing his signature huge cowboy hat.      Jean Muckelberry was a well-known scout in the area. His most famous escapade was when he intercepted the small army of Las Vegians led by the relatively obscure 'Las Vegas' Tom. At one point Muckelberry was the best, but as of late, he had taken up painting instead.      Accounts vary on why, but Jean was very fond of Rick Rickety, the mayor'...

  The Funeral of a Viking (1893) by Frank Bernard Dicksee      We stepped inside the doctor's cozy practice. There was someone inside, gloved up, wiping down the chairs with an alcohol-soaked rag.      Dr. Whitlow turned to us. "Had someone in here, had an awful cough. We're just being careful."      I nodded and took a look at a plaque on the wall. Outstanding service? Ah, during the siege on Norta. Did that make Dr. Whitlow a Nortan refugee? "Doctor, I don't mean to pry, but are you from Norta?" He neglected to give a response. "I see. I won't press you further." "Thank you, Inquisitor."      His assistant stood up. They were evidently done cleaning, and… good gods! How tall was this person? She stood a little higher than me, and I was almost six feet.      They lowered their cloth mask and I saw their face for the first time. It was sharp, and… what was wrong with their ears? They were long, and ended in...

  Elves & Fairies by Ida Rentoul Outhwaite. 1st edition, Lothian, 1916 “It doesn’t matter, because if you move, there’ll be nothing left of you.” The witch was rotating a huge fireball in her palms. “Listen to me, I’m an inquisitor with the royal knights.” As soon as the words left my mouth, the fireball flared up even brighter. “...and I’m not here for you. Not unless you’re the one robbing graves.” “Are you saying that’s not you?” “That’s what I’m saying.”     The fireball died down to a little flame that burned from her fingertip. “So talk.” She rested her left hand on her hip, keeping the flame aloft. “Talk? Unless you have a lead, you have nothing to do with this case, so you should leave.” “Listen, inquisitor…” she spit on the ground. “I want to stop this as much as you do.”     I stood up. “I’m going to stand over here, and I’m going to keep my hand on my hilt.” “Do what you want.” “If you aren’t here to rob graves, are you investigating the...

    Night Castle From T.W. Rolleston’s The Tale of Lohengrin 1910 Cornell University Library "Inquisitor Anna?" The receptionist waved her hand in front of my face. I had been looking out the window at the snowy peaks of Mt. Naroma. "What is it?" I asked. I could only assume the local sheriff was ready to see me. "Sheriff Wellin is ready to see you." I took another look out of the window. High in the hills of northern Rahstora lay the bustling city of Aria. I, Anna, an inquisitor of the Royal Knights, was sent here to help out the local sheriff. Although, in cases like this, they typically give you a specific assignment. From the reaction of the staff here, I knew they weren't expecting me. "Sheriff Wellin?" I extended my hand as I pulled down my scarf with the other. "Good to meet you, Inquisitor." "Likewise." I took a seat in the cushy chair opposite his desk. Around his office were many knick knacks. "Inquisitor, w...