The Contradictite

[Author's Note: This was written for the fourth and final week of the /r/Fantasy NaNoWriMo Short Fiction Writing Contest in 2017. This one won, but I blame that on the fact that week four was underplayed. The theme was buildings that are alive.] The tower slept. It pulsated in the moonlight, snoring and swaying in the darkness. I grabbed onto the lowest jutting brick and began my ascent. The wind blew, and I clutched to my hold as I climbed. I dared not use a spike for fear of waking the tower. I climbed and clung for hours. My hands were ragged and raw, my arms burned and ached. Halfway up the side, a flock of pigeons flew by. I lost my grip on corner, and only by grabbing the window ledge was I spared from one last leap. I took a few breaths before bringing my other hand up. After a short break dangling there, I resumed my climb. At the top, I pulled myself over the ledge. I did my best to clean the grit and stone from my bloody hands, wiping them with a stinging alcohol cl...

[Author's Note: This was written for the third /r/Fantasy short fiction writing contest in 2017. It did not win. The theme was the last spell.] “Are you sure?” she asked. I double-checked the reader. “Yes. There’s only enough magic left for one more spell.” “But I need at least three to do this right.” “You’ll have to manage with just one. Maybe one and a half.” She made an annoyed and frustrated noise. “Can you combine them into a single spell?” She thought about it. She opened her mouth to say something, but then she thought about it some more. “Not easily.” “Let’s write it out, see what we can do.” I cleared the screen and started writing on its surface. “We’ll draw a diagram, see if that helps.” After discussing it a length, I had a pretty complex diagram. I circled an area. “Maybe we could turn this into a single spell, and let the wild magic carry it the rest of the way. She shook her head. “No.” she pointed to another part, drawing a circle around that. “...

[Author's Note: I wrote this for the second week of /r/Fantasy's NaNoWriMo short story contest. Once again, I did not win. The theme was a knight battles an angry goose.] The king sat upon his throne, his face a mask of worry. His eyes brightened a sliver when he saw me enter. I kneeled to him. “Rise, Sir Galloway,” he said. “I have a pressing matter that requires your unique faculties.” “Anything, your grace.” He twirled his beard with his hand. “A drake, Sir Galloway, has taken Princess Ranunculus. He holds her hostage, and demands half my treasury for her ransom.” I considered this predicament. “A vicious drake?” “An *angry* drake,” he said. “Please, Sir Knight, rescue my daughter and I shall give you her hand in marriage.” “I pleasant notion, your grace,” I said. “Consider it done. By your leave.” I left with a bow. I made my way to the stables to regain my horse. I checked the edge of my sword before riding off at full tilt. I searched the grasslands for ...

[Author's Note: This was written as a part of a /r/Fantasy's NaNoWriMo short story competition. The theme was that demons could summon humans. While it didn't win, I think it's still worth reading.] I clicked the presentation over to the next slide. “As you can see, if we adopt these simple cost-cutting measures, we’ll save over…” However, the room began to shift in front of my. The room and my coworkers began to dissolve, being replaced by jagged, red rocks and magma. The smell of coffee and doughnut turned to sulphur and brimstone. Three terrifying creatures kneeled around me, where I stood amid a chalk circle. “...million dollars over the next five years,” I finished. One of the creatures looked at me. “Wow, scary. You sure that circle will hold, Jeferoth?” The one I presumed was Jeferoth, a three-legged thing with eight eyes, but not all of them on his head, answered. “Pretty sure.” “What can it do?” asked the third. “Lots of stuff,” said Jeferoth. “Bu...

[Author's Note: This is a poem about a fictional location, which was the subject of an abandoned story. I have recycled some elements from that unpublished story and used them in different stories (which I'll publish here). The poem is intentionally strange.] There is a landmass that is orthogonal to reason. It exists between the aether and phlogiston. To get there, one must have been there before. To return home, one must have never left. The land is called Dimpus by none, But is loved just as much. The creatures who do not go are Humans, Clinkebeans and Koepans, Who would instantly fall apart due to Interdimensional instability. They are the only three three-dimensional sentient beings. Common denizens of the land called Dimpus by none Have six 14.721-dimensional parents Which all love their children equally as much With the exception of the anti-lunreght, Who is incapable of love. The Jesuits are an organization holding Beliefs handed down to them by Thos...

[Author's Note: This was a poem I wrote for a creative writing course in college. It is inspired, thematically, by Lewis Carroll's The Hunting of the Snark .] There was a time I thought to hunt a boojum, It having caused my friends to disappear, Die, have inverted colors. We asked Alice, anonymously, to lead us To this land of wonder that contains the boojum And other frabjuous things. Alice grabbed a darner, ready to impale. I sharpened and honed my blade, a vorpal affair, As I honed and sharpened my skills, running through the forest, Slaying that which fell into my path. Packing provisions, we found a flat-tailed accomplice Who was ready to leave the dam, giving nary a damn To his home, ready to help me gain my revenge. Grabbed he his cleaver and told me thus: “Beware the snark, my friend, His guise deceits, his snorm fossy. I shall snicker him in the end, with my cleaver, frubulent and gossy.” We went there thus from his house on the river And found the...

[Author's Note: This is yet another "Yolun" story. Originally published in February of 2002 on my LiveJournal literary community, indiefiction. It was meant to be the introduction to a story about a young boy who goes on a mission to save his town, and quite possibly, the entire world.] On the planet Yolun there existed a sad state of affairs. The Magician Vonne's Doom Machine had made the terrain a desolate wasteland that could hardly sustain the indigenous life forms present, and could not keep this sustenance going for much longer. The Lokut had carved the life off of a fraction of the planet. Their ravenous appetites had cleared out entire small colonies. The curse keeping Ronk at bay vanished, and he awoke to reign terror once again, practically unstoppable. In his palace in the secluded uncharted area of Yolun, Yolu, the essence of the world, sat on his throne and watched the happenings slowly drain the life of his world, and eventually him. "Three poi...

[Author's Note: When I was younger, I had created a fantasy setting called Yolun. I dabbled with a sort of continuing story about its creation and history and the different adventures that happened upon it. Maybe one day, I'll revive that notion. However, for now, here is a metafictional short story set in that world. Originally published in my LiveJournal literary community, indieficiton, in October of 2001. It intentionally breaks off in the middle of a sentence.] On the planet Yolun, men worked feverishly in a laboratory. They were attempting to hone not only their skills of science, but also of magic. Their current project was the design of a new species. This was the first time that Science was given the job normally taken by Chance or Nature (depending on the other's mood that day). The project's benefactor was anonymous, but there really weren't all too many people on Yolun who could fund the design of a new species. Even fewer in the land of Mor, since e...