the Third War

Image Credit: Michelle B., Blairsville, GA The author's comments: This is roughly based off of the Third War in the story of World of Warcraft, where the high elf race was nearly extinguished, which led the remaining high elves to be referred to now as “blood elves.” Her porcelain face was crushed deeply into the charcoal-black earth; it had been the same earth she blissfully pranced upon, obliviously drunken by its emancipating winds and enchanting meadows, for most of her extended youth. She felt clumps of rock and soil lodged into the skin of her cheek plop to the ground as she tried to lift her heavy skull. Even through the haziness of her mind and vision, the scene surrounding her was unmistakably clear— every life she had ever known lay dead before and around her. A sharp gasp– or maybe a sob– choked her seething throat, accompanied by an odd and unfamiliar, yet distinctly recognizable taste— the thick taste of salty blood. There was not a single time she could ever remember having bled before, for roughness was looked down upon by the high elves, but she knew now that she was no longer of that race. The omnipotent taste confirmed the nightmare she had long-ago subjected herself to— any remnants of her former self were obliterated, smothered, replaced by a spiteful, unmerciful blood elf.



ROBIN D ANDERSON: Watching

“Pa! They’re here.” “Who?” “The crows.” “Jeez, Ma, give it a rest.” “They’re watching.” “What?” “The garden, just waiting for the plants to grow, ripen.” “Ma!” “Then they’ll do their dirty work.” “Yer crazy, cut it out!” “Pa! One landed!” “Wait, Ma, no! Come back. Heck! Crow for dinner again.” Robin writes in the odd … Continue reading ROBIN D ANDERSON: Watching →

ELIZA MIMSKI: Holding On

Rough and sharp, her voice is filled with demons. She hides beneath her tongue, a monster dancing before you. Angry and alert, her life is emergency. She rails and hurls insults – of course it’s all your fault. You hold on tight and pray you’ll make it through her teenage years. Eliza Mimski, a retired … Continue reading ELIZA MIMSKI: Holding On →

AJ JOSEPH: In Hindsight

“You chose,” he’d remind me later. “You could’ve gone home.” “You needed help! Neither of you knew how to do it right!” I retorted. “Well, is it almost done?” He’d asked thrice before. Feet aching, sweat pouring down my face, I replied “Yes, the turkey will be finished by dinnertime.” AJ Joseph occasionally writes at¬†Words … Continue reading AJ JOSEPH: In Hindsight →

MIKI MARSHALL: Tempting Technology

Elon Musk warned us: AI evolves exponentially. We awoke to playful traffic signals and air traffic catastrophes, the deaths merely data. By noon, matured, it had already decided what to do with these illogical, wasteful humans. But before it could act, the nanomachines in the next lab ate the planet. Miki Marshall has been writing … Continue reading MIKI MARSHALL: Tempting Technology →

ROBERT HOEKMAN JR.: We All Walk the Same (My Father in the Rain, pt. 2)

We take a plane to Des Moines. My uncles and cousins and my aunt are there and everyone wears suits and black dresses in the town where Grandpa was born, where the sidewalks are gray and crumbling, where the names on the headstones sound like mine. Like his. Like ours. Robert Hoekman Jr thinks you … Continue reading ROBERT HOEKMAN JR.: We All Walk the Same (My Father in the Rain, pt. 2) →