One Hell of a Trip_Bad Decisions_A Tern for the Worse_Stealing is Believing
Catalog Guide:
One Hell of a Trip
"Vosh!" Triple Shot shouted in frustration. "Who the hell keeps eating all of the klumnta fruit?""Sorry, Trip, that would be us. Well, my wife, mainly," said Ace's voice over the comlink."She does know those aren't meant for human consumption, right?" came Mort's soft, silky purr a second later."Doesn't she know those are mine?!" Triple Shot bellowed. His deep bass voice reverberated around the tiny galley and through the ship. His reptilian tail swished angrily about behind him until he smashed it into the nearby hull. Triple Shot, or Trip as the crew had taken to calling him, was working on ...
Bad Decisions
“Come on Ella, how bad could it be?” I consider this question, imagining and envisioning this crazy plan of my sisters. She may be younger than me but most of the time she is the boss. In most situations we do things her way despite my countless protests. But this request, this question I can’t possibly say yes to.“No Julie, there is absolutely no way in hell I’m sleeping in a graveyard at night, let alone on halloween,” I say plopping down on the red beanbag facing her bed.She stares me directly in the eyes, digging deep into my soul, “Come on Ella, nothing bad can happen. The worst thing t...
A Tern for the Worse
*Author’s Note: “A Tern for the Worse” is a standalone story, set in the same universe as my other Reedsy short-stories, with overlapping characters and events.*The headwinds were gettiwww.onedoor.ccng stronger. The world was changing, and my flock was getting smaller. Each loss was a new addition to the Firebirds twinkling in the sky beyond; but I survive.Since the thunder storm that dried the rivers and lakes, life was hard. The Grounders suffered the most, and still do. The Baldies ruled the Grounders thanks to the Gift they received from their God, but even this wasn’t enough to save them now. Our Gift ...
Stealing is Believing
Gusts of thickly humid wind pulsed against my ears just as the waves below me rhythmically lapped against the dampened wooden hull of our ship. A sail far above my head, the smaller of the two which we had loosened on our land-bound approach, flapped wildly, shaking salted drops off its fabric like a dog fresh from the water. I clasped one hand atop my hat to keep it from flying off as I turned to the captain.“Captain Moodey!” I shouted over the thunderous wind and waves. “Captain Moodey!” I repeated, stepping towards him. His dark scraggly beard, which hung to his breastbone, was flapping li...