HEROIC FANTASY QUARTERLY– Q19

With awesome terminology like Polar Vortex cramping our minds, we find ourselves this first day of February trapped between winter storms Leon and Maximus. Yeah, we’re sick of it too. So it is that our thoughts turn to warmer days and climes. While we can’t do anything but wait it out here in the northern […]

THE HOUSE OF NHARAT

THE HOUSE OF NHARAT, by Garnett Elliot: The Moon Goddess revealed her full glory against a night filled with scudding clouds.  From his vantage atop Nin Ursu’s mud brick walls, Ekkur could see the distant silhouettes of enemy bowmen.  They crouched among the fields surrounding the city-state, not quite close enough to loose their shafts.  […]

THE LAST FIRST TIME

THE LAST FIRST TIME, by Colin Heintze: Every time I went to Karkil I stopped for coffee. I had always enjoyed Karkil’s brew, a great deal of my enjoyment coming from the fact that no living lips had tasted it for two-hundred years. From my seat on the café terrace I heard the ass braying. […]

THE LIVING CURSE

THE LIVING CURSE, by Ethan Fode: There was no fire or smoke, only the terrible groan as the temple crumbled, the thick columns snapping in half, the walls buckling outward. He barely noticed, consumed by the song of the sorcery in his bones, the oily feel of the ancient magic coating his soul. When he […]

A PARADISE OF WASTELAND

A PARADISE OF WASTELAND, by Adrian Simmons: On the fifth day after the sandstorm, Lemyta went to look at the world she had drawn in the dirt.  She leaned over it, not yet so burdened by years that she needed to squat down to see it.  Several animal tracks crossed the design, jackal and gerbil, […]

THE SUCCUBUS

THE SUCCUBUS, by Colin Heintze: the beat of wings, I pray an owl is cause enough to cower a woman-thing both fair and foul visits me each evening’s glower how many bargains, devil-struck how many hands that wicked fruit would pluck from serpent-coiled boughs to feel her breath against my ear to hold her warmly […]

FORTUNE-TELLER

FORTUNE-TELLER, by E.L. Schmitt:   A fold of painted cards across a rune-scribed palm. Inked in black and red, she tells his future nights. Across a pampered palm nails skitter, slip and show. She tells his future now in swirls of breath and song. Eyes skitter, slip and sting, blind in the fire-lit tent. Swirling […]