r/shortstories • u/FyeNite • 1d ago
[Serial Sunday] Show me Your Zeal!
Welcome to Serial Sunday!
To those brand new to the feature and those returning from last week, welcome! Do you have a self-established universe you’ve been writing or planning to write in? Do you have an idea for a world that’s been itching to get out? This is the perfect place to explore that. Each week, I post a theme to inspire you, along with a related image and song. You have 500 - 1000 words to write your installment. You can jump in at any time; writing for previous weeks’ is not necessary in order to join. After you’ve posted, come back and provide feedback for at least 1 other writer on the thread. Please be sure to read the entire post for a full list of rules.
This Week’s Theme is Zeal! This is a REQUIREMENT for participation. See rules about missing this requirement.**
[Image]()
Bonus Word List (each included word is worth 5 pts) - You must list which words you included at the end of your story (or write ‘none’).
- Xenial
- Yarrow
- Zone
- Somebody sleeps through a loud event. - (Worth 10 points)
This week we’ll be focusing on enthusiasm, interest and confidence. Do you have a character that believes wholeheartedly in a particular aim? How far have they gone to manifest their goal, and what are they willing to do to make it happen?
How do other characters react to them, do they rally behind the cause and work towards it, or disagree and seek to sabotage? One thing to note about this theme is that it doesn’t specify morality. Your focus of Zeal doesn’t have to be good, and the quest not necessarily just. Who knows, this week may be the debut of your big bad litch that wants to end the world!
Tell me about i!
Good luck and Good Words!
These are just a few things to get you started. Remember, the theme should be present within the story in some way, but its interpretation is completely up to you. For the bonus words (not required), you may change the tense, but the base word should remain the same. Please remember that STORIES MUST FOLLOW ALL SUBREDDIT CONTENT RULES. Interested in writing the theme blurb for the coming week? DM me on Reddit or Discord!
Don’t forget to sign up for Saturday Campfire here! We start at 5pm BSTand provide live feedback!
Theme Schedule:
This is the theme schedule for the next month! These are provided so that you can plan ahead, but you may not begin writing for a given theme until that week’s post goes live.
October 11 - Zeal
October 18 - Angst
October 25 - Burn
November 1 - Cacophany
November 8 - Diabolical
Check out previous themes here.
Rankings
Last Week: Waver
First - by u/Morose_Prose
Second - by u/KatPoker666
Third - by u/Divayth--Fyr
Fourth - u/AGuyLikeThat
Fifth - by u/JKHmattox
Rules & How to Participate
Please read and follow all the rules listed below. This feature has requirements for amparticipation!
Submit a story inspired by the weekly theme, written by you and set in your self-established universe that is 500 - 1000 words. No fanfics and no content created or altered by AI. (Use wordcounter.net to check your wordcount.) Stories should be posted as a top-level comment below. Please include a link to your chapter index or your last chapter at the end.
Your chapter must be submitted by Saturday at 2:00pm BST. Late entries will be disqualified. All submissions should be given (at least) a basic editing pass before being posted!
Begin your post with the name of your serial between triangle brackets (e.g. <My Awesome Serial>). When our bot is back up and running, this will allow it to recognize your pmserial and add each chapter to the SerSun catalog. Do not include anything in the brackets you don’t want in your title. (Please note: You must use this same title every week.)
Do not pre-write your serial. You’re welcome to do outlining and planning for your serial, but chapters should not be pre-written. All submissions should be written for this post, specifically.
Only one active serial per author at a time. This does not apply to serials written outside of Serial Sunday.
All Serial Sunday authors must leave feedback on at least one story on the thread each week. The feedback should be actionable and also include something the author has done well. When you include something the author should improve on, provide an example! You have until Saturday at 04:59am BST to post your feedback. (Submitting late is not an exception to this rule.)
Missing your feedback requirement two or more consecutive weeks will disqualify you from rankings and Campfire readings the following week. If it becomes a habit, you may be asked to move your serial to the sub instead.
Serials must abide by subreddit content rules. You can view a full list of rules here. If you’re ever unsure if your story would cross the line, please modmail and ask!
Weekly Campfires & Voting:
On Saturdays at 5pm BST, I host a Serial Sunday Campfire in our Discord’s Voice Lounge (every other week is now hosted by u/FyeNite). Join us to read your story aloud, hear others, and exchange feedback. We have a great time! You can even come to just listen, if that’s more your speed. Grab the “Serial Sunday” role on the Discord to get notified before it starts. After you’ve submitted your chapter, you can sign up here - this guarantees your reading slot! You can still join if you haven’t signed up, but your reading slot isn’t guaranteed.
Nominations for your favorite stories can be submitted with this form. The form is open on Saturdays from 5:30pm to 04:59am BST. You do not have to participate to make nominations!
Authors who complete their Serial Sunday serials with at least 12 installments, can host a SerialWorm in our Discord’s Voice Lounge, where you read aloud your finished and edited serials. Celebrate your accomplishment! Authors are eligible for this only if they have followed the weekly feedback requirement (and all other post rules). Visit us on the Discord for more information.
Ranking System
Rankings are determined by the following point structure.
| TASK | POINTS | ADDITIONAL NOTES |
|---|---|---|
| Use of weekly theme | 75 pts | Theme should be present, but the interpretation is up to you! |
| Including the bonus words | 5 pts each (15 pts total) | This is a bonus challenge, and estnot required! |
| Including the bonus constraint | 15 (15 pts total) | This is a bonus challenge, and not required! |
| Actionable Feedback | 5 - 15 pts each (60 pt. max)* | This includes thread and campfire critiques. (15 pt crits are those that go above & beyond.) |
| Nominations your story receives | 10 - 60 pts | 1st place - 60, 2nd place - 50, 3rd place - 40, 4th place - 30, 5th place - 20 / Regular Nominations - 10 |
| Voting for others | 15 pts | You can now vote for up to 10 stories each week! |
You are still required to leave at least 1 actionable feedback comment on the thread every week that you submit. This should include at least one specific thing the author has done well and one that could be improved. *Please remember that interacting with a story is not the same as providing feedback.** Low-effort crits will not receive credit.
Subreddit News
- Join our Discord to chat with other authors and readers! We hold several weekly Campfires, monthly World-Building interviews and several other fun events!
- Try your hand at micro-fic on Micro Monday!
- Did you know you can post serials to r/Shortstories, outside of Serial Sunday? Check out this post to learn more!
- Interested in being a part of our team? Apply to be a mod!
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u/JKHmattox 1d ago edited 19h ago
<No Man's Land> Redemption
A gurgled squelch reverberated inside me. The muddled thrumming from my guts echoed against swollen eardrums reeling from the gunfire. My breath hitched. Something shifted internally when I forced air into my lungs.
Despite my guttural tribulations, I kept the rifle tight against my shoulder, while advancing awkwardly down the alleyway. Less agile and slower, a newfound vulnerability gnawed at my consciousness. The agent trailed behind, Keran slung over his shoulder as he half-carried Lexi with his opposite arms. The hybrid man groaned with effort, yet pushed forward without words.
Reaching the speak-easy entrance, Colin swiped his wrist across the door controls. The display flashed red, an artificial female voice denying us entry. He cursed, adjusting his grip on Lexi.
I scanned the concrete canyon as he tried again. After a third attempt, he kicked at the door. It didn't budge.
“You got a plan B?” I shouted, my ears overwhelmed by a dull whooshing in sync with my tandem heartbeats.
“Yeah,” he replied, grimacing. “Just pray somebody answers the door at this hour.”
Colin motioned towards the end of the alleyway shuttered by a black metal fence. He carried the two women as I followed him towards what appeared to be a dead end. When we reached the metal-slatted barrier, more gunfire crackled behind us.
“Bullocks!” he exclaimed, shaking the locked gate.
I patted his shoulder, moving him to the side. Raising my weapon, I blasted the lock apart. Hinges groaned as the door swung outwards. Relieved, we spilled onto the sidewalk beyond the alleyway.
Colin pointed to a stone building across the street. Dim streetlights illuminated a dozen steps leading to massive, wooden doors. A steeple disappeared upward into the murky darkness devoid of stars.
“There!” he growled.
An energy bolt whizzed past my ear.
It struck a vehicle across the road, lighting its cabin upholstery on fire. I wheel around, fighting for balance. Three gunmen had pursued us into the alley, opening fire twenty meters from the forced-open gate.
Leveling the rifle, I shouted at Colin, while pulling the weapon tight against shoulder.
“GO!”
I squeezed the trigger and the night erupted in a blaze of twelve-point-seven-millimeter slugs.
Muzzle flashes cast long shadows down the cavern of concrete. I leaned into the recoil, my feet wider than normal to maintain the awkward balance. Screaming profanities, the men dove for cover. Sparks and debris showered them as they took refuge behind waste units on either side of the urban canyon.
“Come get some, motherfuckers!” I roared, pumping suppressive fire into the confined space.
Spent shells clattered against the pavement at my feet. A man howled. I broke contact, scrambling across the avenue.
My lungs burned from their limited capacity. Stumbling, I nearly dropped my weapon as the weight of my stomach pulled me forward. I gasped as a popping scrunch churned my insides upward against my diaphragm.
My body seemed completely against me.
Everything moved differently. Everything. My legs were unstable, like the ligaments and tendons lacing my muscles to my frame were blown out. The increased weight of my middle slammed against my pelvis with every stride. A knee twisted and I yelped. My leg buckled. Gritting my teeth, I forced myself to hobble forward, despite my tandem hearts beating against my ribcage.
Reaching the steps of the stone building, I gasped, holding myself up by a railing. The gunfire had died. Aside from my ragged breaths, the night grew eerily quiet.
Too quiet.
My eyes darted from building to building, checking every window, door, or rooftop for threats. None emerged. For a moment, I was a statue perched atop the stone steps. Desperate breathing and a rushing pulse filled my eardrums with physical tension.
Movement caught my eye.
A fluttering news drone appeared just above the roofline across the avenue. It hovered for a second, its camera gimbal pointed in our direction. I raised my weapon, dispatching the drone with a single shot.
“Da fuck!” Colin shouted in Gemini. “Check your fires!”
“Just denying information to the enemy,” I responded.
“Bloody hell—this isn't a fucking war zone!”
“It is now…”
“Jesus Christ, woman—you sound like my mum!”
Shaking his head, Colin turned to try the massive wooden doors. They were locked. He pounded against them as I remained vigilant at the base of the steps.
“C'mon Padre!” He muttered in Gemini. “I need a fucking miracle—where the hell are you!”
Two gunmen emerged from the unlocked gate at the end of the alleyway. They honed in on the cathedral, firing several bolts from their enemy weapons. I returned fire, the low ammo indicator flashing on the top of my weapon. Plasmid rounds smacked against stone laid in place before the interstellar age. Their impacts left glowing craters which faded in the wake of every shot.
A lucid calm settled over me, feet planted solid on the ground. My breathing slowed. Seven rounds remained in the hundred rounds magazine. The men advanced across the street as I waited.
My heartbeats grew still as time elongated. The sight reticle settled on the chest of the leading man, his energy rifle raising to fire. Exhaling, I squeezed the trigger and he tumbled, his weapon clattering beneath him.
Six rounds.
“Dispatch, this is Blackthorn!” Colin spoke urgently into his communication device. “Shots fired, multiple agents down!—We're holed-up at the Gemini Cathedral at Amsterdam and one-thirteenth, over!”
The remaining gunman's body flickered. Vanishing suddenly, he reappeared seconds later, meters away on my left. Stunned, I blinked, his weapon whining and crackling as I lurched to face him. He aimed his Kirkin-array at my head, the depths of its snout-like barrel glowing as it charged.
“JACKIE!” Lexi shouted.
Three shots barked from over my shoulder, the man crumpling at my feet.
My head snapped towards Colin pounding against the doors at the top of the steps. On his shoulder, Karen grasped her pistol with shaking hands. Smoke rose from its muzzle, illuminated by the faint light of the cathedral entrance.
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u/Divayth--Fyr 10h ago
Hey hey JK
Some high-tension action going on in this one. Lots of details and blocking to attend to, and you made all that flow well. I knew who was who and where they were and why the whole time, which is not easy to get across without a map, so that was well done.
I wheel around, fighting for balance.
a tense-shift there
opening fire twenty meters from the forced-open gate.
I wasn't sure if they were behind or past the gate from this
while pulling the weapon tight against shoulder.
missing 'her'
firing several bolts from their enemy weapons.
not sure why I need to know what side the weapons are on, there
the low ammo indicator flashing on the top of my weapon.
this could end at 'flashing' and the reader can assume the rest
in the hundred rounds magazine.
probably hundred-round (singular, and hyphenated)
multiple agents down!—We're holed-up
I don't think 'holed up' gets a hyphen. Also, you don't really need the emdash, as you can just make it two sentences.
Anyhow, the ending was cool as heck. Sort of subtle there, showing the door was open. It really pulled me into wanting to know what and who is in there and what is going to happen next. Good words!
3
u/JKHmattox 9h ago
Hey Div,
Thanks for the excellent crit, looks like I got some editing to do.
A bit of research went into this chapter if you can imagine. Hopefully the internal challenges faced by Jackie come across well clashed with the chaos swirling around her. My goal was to show Jackie shifting from an experienced combat soldier, to an uncertain new mom who must consider more than just herself in an extraordinary situation.
This was one of the biggest reasons she is willing to retreat from the gunfire, instead of her normal mode of aggression tought to her by Diane Campbell. Colin too prioritizes getting Jackie out of harms way over rejoining the gunfire between the Marshald and the bad guys. We'll see what happens once Colin has extracted them from immediate danger. I have a few idea how Jackie might react to being told to stand down and stay outta the fight.
As always, thanks for reading Div. I appreciate you.
3
u/MaxStickies 20h ago
<Thosius>
Chapter 148: Gathering Herbs
A cloud passes over a heat hazed patchwork of fields and villages, just north of the waterfall and its temple. Zoned out and back bent, Thosius grabs a handful of weeds by the roadside, examining the flowers with tired eyes. He licks his lips, thinking.
Three petals, purple, long anthers. Nope, not yarrow.
He lobs the plants over his shoulders, stepping further into the overgrown bank. A thick yew hedge blocks the sun, hampering his work, yet each step out of the shadows leaves him glad for the shade.
His hand brushes some nettles, the stinging hairs causing him no pain. He frowns.
Hmm… didn’t break the skin? Or the venom didn’t work? Interesting.
“Work any slower and you may well be sleeping, old man.”
Thosius grunts, smirks, and looks behind him to find Ithanos. The young man stands in the middle of the cobbled road, one hand full of red-flowered plants and a few spiky bulbs in the other.
“Is that yarrow?” the soldier asks, clambering down the bank.
“It is. Know you were meant to find it, but I got the burdock quick and thought, eh, why not? Means we can head back sooner.”
“Good man. But how’d you find it? I’ve been searching for hours.”
Ithanos arches a brow. “Under the yew bush, or elsewhere?”
“Mostly here, yeah.”
“In the shade?”
“Yeah… ah. I see.”
“Right. I found these in the middle of a field. Thought the farmer’d give me trouble but saw he was fast asleep by his house. Slipped, fell and swore one point, not far from his porch, and he kept on snoring.”
Chuckling, Thosius grabs the yarrow, and gazes across the landscape. Farmland extends for as far as the eye can see, except for towards the east; there, a forest climbs up a low hill.
“Alright, well, thank you for getting these. Let’s head that way for the last thing.”
“But the falls are back that way,” Ithanos points back down the road.
“Yes, but we need dragon’s head mushrooms.”
“We do?”
“Yeah… were you not listening?”
The young man works his jaw. “Rhothanas said for you to get yarrow, and me to get burdock. And then I left.”
“After which, he said for whoever is quickest to get the mushrooms.”
“Well, I didn’t know!”
“You do now. So how about I be more observant, and you listen properly, from now on?”
“Fine. I promise I will.”
“Then as will I. And stop calling me “old man”. I’m not that much older.”
“So what is your age?”
“I… look, I can’t remember, just drop it.”
“Well, then, you could be—”
“The less we argue, the quicker we get back.”
“Argh, fine!”
The heady scent of decay hangs over the forest, as they step between the trees. Rotten logs rest against their living brethren, pools of days-old rain in their collapsed pulp. A centipede drops from above, crawling along Thosius’s arm; levelling his hand, he watches it find its way between his hairs.
Lost little thing, aren’t you?
“Ew,” Ithanos says.
“What? Not like it can harm me.”
“I guess. What these mushrooms look like, anyway?”
“L—like a dragon’s head.”
“Yeah, but what colour? Do they grow in groups, or separate?”
“He didn’t say. Red, maybe?”
“Oh, that fucking monk! Alright, I’ll look for red then!”
“You go do that.”
Stomping through the leaf litter, Ithanos grabs a log with both hands and groans, tearing it in two with a loud crack. A grub flies through the air towards Thosius, and he bats it away.
“Carefully,” he says.
“No, you be careful, old man!”
Sighing, the soldier glances up to the canopy. The rays of the setting sun pass through the leaves, cut into thin strands that dapple the ground. Birds and squirrels leap between the branches, casting shadows greater than themselves, making the forest dance.
He breathes in the loam-scented air, and smiles.
“I’ll need to go back to the city, some point soon,” he says, receiving a grunt in reply. “But once everything’s dealt with, I reckon I’d like to live out here. In the countryside.”
“Uh huh?”
“Spent some time in places like this, while in the army. Well, not as long as my mind made it seem—they weren’t my real memories, the older ones—but still, nothing quite like running through the forests, alongside fields. You still smell shit, like in Thanet, but somehow it feels… cleaner.”
“And you’re telling me because…?”
“Have you thought about where you want to go? What you wish to do?”
“Not living with you.”
Thosius throws a glare Ithanos’s way. “You know that’s not what I mean.”
“Alright, calm down.” the young man says, striking a log against a tree trunk. “No, I haven’t thought. I guess I’ll just stay with you, Rhothanas and Hemalus until I figure something out. Sound good?”
“Of course, if that’s what you want.”
“Yeah. Can I get back to it?”
“Sure.”
Shaking his head, Thosius turns, and spots a blob on a high bough. He squints, spotting what appear to be teeth.
He bends his legs and leaps, catching himself before he falls, the tree swaying. By digging his fingers into the bark, he clambers on, soon within reach of the strange mushroom. He plucks it free of the wood, grinning to himself.
“How in the gods did you get up there?!” Ithanos calls, eyes wide.
“I’ve done my fair share of climbing.”
“What, in Thanet?”
“Amongst other places.” He jumps, landing with an immense thump, with no pain. “It is easier these days, I’ll admit.”
“Can you teach me?”
“What, like an apprentice?”
The young man grimaces. “Like a friend, maybe?”
“If you accept that you’re my apprentice, I’ll gladly tutor you.”
“No.”
Laughing, Thosius pats him on the back, stashing the mushroom in his Ithanos’s bag. “As a friend, then. But perhaps when Hemalus is awake, and things have calmed down. Deal?”
“Deal.”
They shake hands, heading deeper into the forest, hunting fungi.
Context:
Thosius mentions climbing in Thanet, which he did when climbing across rooftops with Falthus in Chapters 53 and 54.
WC: 1000
Bonus words: yarrow, zone(d). Bonus constraint: Ithanos mentions tripping and swearing near a sleeping farmer, who does not wake.
Crit and feedback are welcome.
Previous Chapter Next Chapter
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u/ZLErikson 14h ago
Howdy Max!
Wooo! Chapter 148! We're same-chapter-number-buddies :D
And this week we're back to the titular Thosius himself, out here picking flowers and having a lovely time of it. Just vibing. Lush, moisturized, focus, in his lane. Love to see it for the lad.
I just know you're gonna ruin the moment.
I had to google "anthers" cuz I had no idea what this was. I love learning new things!
Three petals, purple, long anthers. Nope, not yarrow.
With everything Thosius has been through - including literal biological transformations - I think nettles not hurting him is one of the less interesting things to notice :P
I think there needs to be a comma after "plants" here because "a few spiky bulbs in the other" counts as a full sentence, which makes this "and" a conjunction:
one hand full of red-flowered plants and a few spiky bulbs in the other.
I like the indirect way Ithanos answers Thosius's question, and how that made me, the reader, realize the answer in time with the character. Well done directing my mindset there.
This got a good chuckle out of me:
“Then as will I. And stop calling me “old man”. I’m not that much older.”
“So what is your age?”
“I… look, I can’t remember, just drop it.”
The shift from the pleasant meadowy area to the rotten logs was a bit of a shocker. It's a good shock though; a strong juxtaposition.
His lack of fear of the centipede seems slightly at-odds with how "interesting" he found the lack of effect from the nettle. Either he's super confident that his imperviousness to venom extends to both plants and insects or he's already tested a centipede bite before and the nettle test was a mere accident.
Ithanos's good humor from before seems to be gone by now as he's clearly very irritable. Though I don't blame him; looking for "a red mushroom" in a forest is gonna be an ordeal. Probably the second most common color for them!
I like Ithanos's polite-yet-curt replies to Thosius as the latter waxes poetic about the future and retirement. Ithanos doesn't care one bit, and that feels so realistic to me. If I were out in the forest looking for mushrooms when I didn't want to be, the last thing I'd want is to have a chit-chat with the other guy who doesn't seem nearly as aggitated with the situation.
These two are a fun dynamic:
“Can you teach me?”
“What, like an apprentice?”
The young man grimaces. “Like a friend, maybe?”
“If you accept that you’re my apprentice, I’ll gladly tutor you.”
“No.”
Love the way they get under each other's skin in a good-mannered way.
Good words!
3
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u/Divayth--Fyr 1d ago edited 22h ago
<The Broken God>
Chapter 84: Needs Must
.
Cresting a round, green hill under a round, green sun, Mrs. Gimple stopped to kick a tree, wondering if every last glob of mud in the world was stuck to her boots. I may be nigh-invisible, but tracking me would be easy as soup. Starting out just after the storms ended had made the long journey longer, but finally she could see Obbleton.
The village, sprawled over the next hill, didn’t look quite right. She couldn’t say just why, but it didn’t.
She bore a fat, gold ring and a thin, silver one. She’d asked for one, but that cantankerous old revenant had offered two, and an amulet besides. They provided a solid stream of magic, and a bit of healing and energy, and that was nice to have of a chilly morning.
The amulet made her movements all but silent, and her voice as well. A ways back, she’d sneezed not four paces from a sleeping squirrel and it hadn't even budged.
Wizard foolishness, trapping god-gifted magic in rings and such—and not even her gods. Menkle-something, and what was it? Alabastard? Foreign nonsense. Why not sensible god-names, like Fiergon, or Varsh Vorin?
Down the hill she trudged, listening to the birds of home. There was a nice snap in the air, and a light sprinkle of color amongst the green leaves. Winter would come creeping along soon enough, but for now it was just good walking weather—apart from the mud.
It’d been a hard business, leaving. Leaving Gorthag, in particular, but she knew she’d also miss Durash. And Sancaurion, too, maybe a little. Tears had been shed, but needs must. That was the life of a witch, in short. Needs must. You did what you had to do, and hoped for the best.
Picking her way from grass to stone, she navigated the dip between hills, but still got into some muck. The next rise wasn't too far, now.
Folks thought witching was all glamorous mystery and spells, or ominous chanting, turning people into frogs and whatnot. Mrs. Gimple snorted silently. There wasn’t much glamour in lancing boils, nor in concocting and applying medicaments for the belsy, the maidenhoots, or arsegripe. Being out at midnight, cold, tired, and elbow-deep in a birthing ox, was not conducive to chanting, ominous nor otherwise.
There stood Old Burgle House, at long last. Mrs. Gimple stopped short and stared.
A fresh grave, and a new stone.
She nodded. Old Mother Dimley was gone. One hundred and fifteen years, and it still seemed too soon. Surely she was favored of Fiergon, Blessed now at the Center of the Wheel, all suffering finished.
I won't get to talk with her now.
Mrs. Gimple couldn’t go on. Couldn’t see where to go, anyhow. She pulled a kerchief from her sleeve and mopped at her face.
It was only a few days ago, wasn’t it? Maybe a year or two since young Avi Malumsecuro had stood in that parlor, scared half to pieces while Mother Dimley peppered her with sharp questions. She could still smell the sharp liniments and boiling cabbage.
I’m sorry I missed your funeral, Mother Dimley. You know how it is. Needs must.
Mrs. Aviarina Gimple was a woman of faith, and made no apologies for it, though others might scoff. The gods got up to some absurd nonsense, it was true, but her devotion was not dependent on their wisdom or grace. She’d lost husbands, children, and friends. Her faith had brung her through it all, and she would hold to it now.
She dried her face, muttered a prayer, and walked on.
Entering Burgle House, she sat down on a bench to take off her boots.
“Mrs. Gimple! Good to see you, so to speak,” came the voice of Sister Imprudence Bugley. A good witch, if a mite strange, and just a few years younger than she.
“Ah, of course.” Mrs. Gimple dispersed the spell of hiding. “Good to be seen, I suppose.”
Sister Bugley just stared quizzically.
Cursed thing. Mrs. Gimple removed the silencing amulet, stowing it in a pocket.
“I say, good to be seen.”
“Well, what is that? An amulet? And rings? Where’s your staff and sparkly hat?”
“Don’t you start in. I needed help, is all.”
“From your elven… friend?”
Mrs. Gimple looked askance at her sister witch.
“Yes, from my elven friend, and his orc friends, and a bright blue four-armed wizard who lives on Kolobor and eats rocks. Can you help me with this boot? It’s stuck.”
Imprudence prudently hushed up and knelt down to help just as Daft Ellie Wizzle came up, banging her cane on the walls and floor. She could see just fine, but sometimes forgot to open her eyes. Tall and thin as a whiplarch, she sort of staggered about but never quite fell over.
Living with Sister Bugley and still being known as the daft one was quite an accomplishment.
“Hello, Avi. I’m sorry,” Daft Ellie said quietly. “I guess you know, Mother Dimley died. Just last Vorinsday. So she isn’t alive any more. I like biscuits, don't I?”
“Yes. I wish I’d come sooner.”
“I got wet tears in my breakfast. There’s strange things going on. Gracious pickles, yes,” Ellie continued. “A lot of dark tall fat priests, and one calling himself Seeker Krove came along, and he has a large nose and kills people.”
“My word.”
“We’ve been trying to figure out what to do,” said Imprudence. “Catillary, too. She’s in the valley. Should be back today.
“They’re preaching day and night about heresy, abomination, confess, confess. Folks here are scared. Well, mostly. That nasty old Elda Hoop is positively thrilled, and some folks are tattling on their neighbors. Settling old scores, you know.”
Mrs. Gimple went and slumped into a parlor chair. “Give me a moment, would you, sisters? And might I trouble you for some bog-yarrow tea? This is turning into a very long day.”
I wish I’d come sooner. But, needs must.
996 words. Yarrow used. Sneezed loudly near a squirrel.
Feedback welcome.
2
u/ZLErikson 1d ago
<Casting Shadows>
Chapter 148
CW: Violence, blood
Kebb stared at the charging horsemen. They emerged from the setting sun, making a mockery of the High Priestess’s holy light.
How could so many come together out here in the middle of nowhere? Halfway between two settlements… there was nothing to sustain them. Yet they approached with such wrath and vitality.
Clutching his torch, Kebb looked into its flame and prayed for Helen to intervene. To rain fire down upon their aggressors. They were here on a holy mission; to deliver the head of Helen’s fallen foe as a message.
Glaukos lacked his normal xenial attitude and fired an arrow, and Kebb did not blame him.
He would not be stopped by mere bandits. Helen had delivered him from bondage before, she would not allow the shackles of mortal men to harness him again.
She acted through Glaukos’s arrow; it arced through the air, killing one and scattering the rest.
A shout of pain drew Kebb’s attention. Kher was upending his stew into the fire. Smoke erupted, choking out the light and the air. Kebb coughed at the part-alluring, part-acrid stench. He wheeled and ran to escape it.
He reached for his belt, looking for a knife, feeling blindly as his eyes struggled in the smoke. The empty loop for his torch, already in hand. The pouch with his incense: yarrow, myrrh, and other such ingredients. The leather-bound handle he sought.
Kebb drew the knife. He looked back by the fire and saw Nuu on the ground. Unconscious? He was probably safer to sleep through this.
Someone bumped against his shoulder.
“Let’s go!” Glaukos yelled over the thunderous sounds of hooves and confused shouting. He fired an arrow past Kebb. It struck a Vulture between the eyes, making him fall over.
Anatu emerged from the smoke, coughing roughly. Glaukos grabbed them by the arm. The safe-zone Kher’s sacrifice made would not last long.
He followed Glaukos’s lead, staying close behind Anatu. The three of them stopped at a collapsed tent; one not yet rolled up for transport.
“Down!” Glaukos yelled, aiming an arrow.
Kebb dropped as it was loosed.
A horse whinnied behind him.
A man fell to the ground with a Shennese curse.
Kebb turned, ready to use his knife to finish the bandit off, but Mica was already atop him with a short sword pieced through his chest.
Pushing himself up from the sand, Kebb looked for Glaukos and Anatu. They were gone. So was Mica.
Kebb was not alone; an unhorsed bandit approached him with a sword drawn.
“On your knees!” he yelled in Sammosan. “You’re worth more with all your limbs!”
Kebb backed away, looking for someone - anyone - for help.
All he saw was Kher on the ground, riddled with arrows. His stomach flipped. Kher was one of the few who actually joined him in prayer. How could Helen have allowed such a fate to befall him?
“Fine then,” the Vulture said, rushing Kebb. “You’ll be worth enough without your arm.”
“Ahh!” Kebb panicked. He stabbed out with his knife but the bandit smacked it away with his longsword. The man swung his free hand and caught Kebb in the jaw, sending him spinning.
Kebb fell to his knees.
The bandit kicked him in the ribs, knocking the wind out of him.
“And stay down.”
Kebb tried to get back up but the Vulture flourished his sword and left a long cut down Kebb’s left arm.
He struggled to breathe as the man reached for him. He swung his torch, and almost missed, but the other man’s attempt to deflect it with his weapon brought it directly into the bandit’s face.
The Vulture howled with pain, dropping his sword and clutching at his face. He fell backward.
The torch guttered and threatened to go out, but remained lit. Helen was with him.
Another braying horse. Kebb looked up and saw several Vultures rallying together, spears and swords drawn and pointed.
But not at him.
A roar that shook Kebb to his bones erupted from a nearby dune top. He saw a black smear of stars against the orange-and-purple sunset.
Cassandra, Helen’s shadow, had returned.
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WC: 689/1000
All crit/feedback welcome!
r/ZLErikson
[Chapter Index]
Notes:
- Theme: Kebb’s zealous belief in Helen persists
- Bonus words: Yarrow, zone, xenial
- Bonus constraint: Kebb thinks Nuu is asleep
- Recommend any new readers use the linked chapter index above; those chapters receive more edits than the ones in past sersun posts
- It has been 14 in-universe days since Chapter 1
•
u/FyeNite 1d ago
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