Poetry Monday: 'Evanescence' A Micropoetry Collection by Stewart Storrar - Lore Publication

Evanescence: A Micropoetry Collection

by Stewart Storrar

Credit: geralt via Pixabay

Live

Look to the ashes of what once was,

then to the foundations of what needs to be.

Build from the past, towards the future,

And don't lose too much along the way.

Only

Time is a unique enigma,

A resource of life one can never get back,

Yet a resource of life one can fail to spend.

Human nature is to want more of what we cannot have,

Yet time is never wanted,

Only wasted.

Sought

The pattern of love,

And the pattern of madness,

Are one in the same.

The love that drives us mad,

Is akin to the nature of madness,

In the loss of that which we love.

This is the true nature of love and loss.

True

From the depths of the deepest ocean,

To the crest of the tallest mountain.

The heart of the world awaits,

For those who are lost to discover.

---

This collection was written by Stewart Storrar, the founder of Lore Publication. With a love for poetry that dates back years into his high school days, Stewart has always been a keen poet as well as a keen creative writer. This week for Poetry Monday, Lore decided to put out something new; rather than one poem, we decided to collate some of Stewart's micro poetry into one post - enjoy! 

If you are looking to get poetry featured here on Lore, be sure to contact Lore via our email address or social media to talk more about it!

Poetry Monday: Our Tales by Stewart Storrar - Lore Publication

 Our Tales

by Stewart Storrar

Credit: Dan Fador via Pixabay

Is it not that our tales are twined in the essence of fate?

Or are we merely pawns on the universal chessboard of life?

Maybe. But,

Fear not,

For it is watchful.

You have been chosen,

As have we all.

Are our stories forever told and twined?

Or do we carve our path like a river through a landscape?

What is love, if not a feeling?

Perhaps…

You may consider…

Love to be all that you want, all that you need,

Simply realized.

Realized in its purest form.

Or, if you like,

Or, if it likes,

Love is realized,

In our tales told.

---

Our Tales is a poem written by Stewart Storrar, the founder of Lore Publication. With a love for poetry that dates back years into his high school days, Stewart has always been a keen poet as well as a keen creative writer. Two weeks ago, Stewart ran a poll on Lore Publication's Twitter account and  you all spoke out! You want to see weekly poetry here on Lore as well as our articles and short stories. With that in mind, this is the second poem published for our Poetry Monday segments here on the website blog! If you are looking to get poetry featured here on Lore, be sure to contact Lore via our email address or social media to talk more about it!

Currently Lore is accepting any kind of poetry from dark, gothic poems to light haerted love poems (and all the good stuff in between). Get submitting!

How To Get Rid of Writer's Block in 3 Quick Ways - Lore Publication

How To Get Rid of Writer's Block in 3 Quick Ways - Lore Publication

Hello! For those new here, Lore is a website dedicated to publishing quality works of fiction from talented writers all across the world for avid readers all across the world. Lore aims publish insightful media for insightful minds and for fiction we focus on bringing you horror, scifi, fantasy, mystery and thriller themed stories. Currently Lore primarily publishes free flash fiction and free short stories but we also occasionally publish resources to help writers refine their craft. These resources are usually articles such as writing tips for beginners, guides on writing styles, writing genres, and even lists of creative writing prompts.



Today Lore is publishing a short article on writer's block to help you on your writing journey. No matter if you are currently suffering from it or not, this short article will (hopefully) help you learn how to get rid of writer's block. The human mind is a wonderfully creative thing and there are writing tips and tricks to shunt you out of your block!

Image credit: steve_a_johnson via pixabay

Getting Rid of Writer's Block Method One: The Walk

The human mind is an enigma and it always has been. Thinking over all the wonderful things human beings have created, from Einstein's Theories to Shakespeare's Plays, it is a wonder that we still use so little of the human brain. In a fairly recent study back in 2014 by Stanford, human beings discovered that there is a link between creativity and creative thinking with walking. As trivial and unusual as this may seem, the connection seems to exist. While this article is far too short to go into the fine details of why this is the case, the study can be found here for your reading purposes. I have even found that most of my ideas or story development ideas come to me when I am out and about, either shopping or running errands!

Getting Rid of Writer's Block Method Two: Meditation

Meditation has long been a way for people all across the world to quiet their mind and find some form of inner peace. It is a wonderful practice that dates back thousands of years and while you may not know how to meditate, I have found one technique to be fairly useful. Firstly, you may be asking, how can this help break a writer's block? While meditiation does wonders to calm you, this may not necessarily break you from your block. However, writer's block tends to be produced when you get tunnel vision on a subject. With that in mind, trying to rid yourself of this tunnel vision may give you a new perspective or angle to tackle your story from. Meditation can help you centre yourself, almost as if hitting a reset button. This may also help you out of your tunnel vision and thus, help you past writer's block. It is certainly worth a try! Refer to this short video below that I found on YouTube to get you started on meditating. 

 

Getting Rid of Writer's Block Method Three: Skip It

Lastly, a more simply way to get past your writer's block is to skip this specific part of your story. This method may only work for people working on longer length novellas or novels but there are no rules here; there is nothing to say that this method may not work with shorter stories. For me, this is a method that has worked for me in the past while I have worked on my novels. Acutally, a few days ago when working on my new horror project, I used this method to skip ahead in the story. I knew where I wanted to go with the story and thus I wrote the next 'scene' or paragraph first. I then jumped back to the point I was suffering from writer's block to write that section. While it didn't break my block right away, it did help quicken the process I feel (as usually I can have writer's block for hours). In any case, as simple as it may sound, simple skipping ahead to the next section foy our story can work.

---

So there you have it folks! How to get rid of writer's block in 3 quick ways. While these methods may seem simple, having tried them myself, they have worked for me. As a professional freelancer, writing is how I make a living and writer's block can mean late delivery or (worst case scenario) no payment. When I stumble into writer's block, these are the methods that I use. All that being said, I hope these methods work for you and that you have a lovely day!

Poetry Monday: Burn by Sukanya Rajan - Lore Publication

Burn

by Sukanya Rajan

Credit: comfreak via pixabay

I dance through the crimson fire,

The flames licking my body, 

Gyrating to a rhythmless dissonance,

The horizon is ablaze, 

And a mere touch becomes a conflagration.

Through the clouds, 

Terra firma and the,

Limitless expanse of unsuspecting,

Tranquil water,

Your breath fanning my flames, 

I’m trapped in my own inferno. 

Everything I see is charred,
And the flames slowly die down,

An assemblage of thoughts flood my quietude,

 Leaving me with a question- 

Did my soul ignite the fire? 

Or was my soul ignited by it?

Nonetheless, a pyrrhic victory.

Exploring SciFi Tropes: Planning An Alien Invasion by B.K. Bass - Lore Publication

Exploring SciFi Tropes

Hello and welcome to Lore Publication, a place where you can find insightful media for insightful minds. While Lore publishes short stories, writing prompts and flash fiction, we do occasionally publish articles related to the subjects of writing and books; we love all things literary! Today we have a treat for all you readers out there; the first guest article on Lore. If we could give out a medal for alien invasion books here at Lore, Bass would certainly be a winner with his wonderfully imaginative novel What Once Was Home. Without further ado, learn a bit more about the world and the book from the author himself!

 

Planning an Alien Invasion: A Guest Article From B.K. Bass

On Monday, Lore Publication posted a review by founder Stewart Storrar of my upcoming novel, What Once Was Home. The book is a post-apocalyptic science fiction tale that looks at what might occur during an alien invasion and the aftermath. In his review, Stewart had this to say about the invasion:

“Then we have where Bass shines; the alien antagonist. The aliens and how Bass has written them in this book is by far the most enjoyable and strongest aspect of the book. Having an alien invader that is both dangerous and fragile is a hard thing to do but Bass nailed it by having the aliens fragile as individuals but a force to be reckoned with in large groups. The conscious choice to have the aliens dehumanized in this book leads our main characters and us as readers into complex moral dilemmas later on in the book; moral dilemmas that aid in fleshing out both the protagonists and antagonists.”

From his review, I feel Stewart would agree that the “alien invasion” trope tends to lead to stories that focus more on action, are unrealistic, and eschew deep thought. I’m a fan of the genre and the trope, and have enjoyed a large number of books and films that employ them. Despite this, I must agree with Stewart.

So, how did the premise of an alien invasion turn into a story that tackled morality?

From the outset, I wanted to tackle deeper themes in this book. Often when one devises a plot, that becomes what the book is about. What Once Was Home isn’t about an alien invasion, it’s about the challenge of retaining one’s moral integrity in the face of impossible decisions. The invasion, and all that follows, is merely the setting for this exploration.

So, how does one plan an alien invasion so it might provide a vehicle to propel the deeper themes of a novel? As I mentioned, the first step was to set a focus on the theme, then build around that. I think realism is another key factor. You need to curate a certain suspension of disbelief in your reader if you want them to see past the situation presented to the themes that lie beneath. How did I accomplish this? Mostly, by not doing what Stewart says is his biggest complaint with the alien invasion trope:

“My hanging criticism of alien invasion stories is how humans still, through some miracle, win against these odds with no regard for how realistic (I use that word loosely here) winning would be.”

So, what was my answer to this? The next sentence might sound like a spoiler, but you’ll have to trust me that it isn’t. My answer to that problem was that humanity does not win. The main body of the novel takes place in a world where the aliens have occupied much of the planet, and the remnants of humanity struggle to survive this new paradigm.

Stewart has also mentioned the realism of the aliens themselves, and their dehumanization. The aliens in What Once Were Home are tough, but not invincible. They struggle with Earth’s gravity since it’s stronger than that of their own home. They have advanced technology that enables them to decimate humanity overnight, but not so powerful that they can exterminate us as easily. Just as humanity must learn to live on a world occupied by another dominant species, so too must the aliens learn to live on a world infested by humanity.

Yes, I said infested. That’s the last piece of the puzzle here: dehumanization. The aliens never attempt to communicate, and through a small interaction that does take place it’s made clear their physiology most likely eliminates the possibility of spoken dialogue. Humanity is hunted by them, and we hunt them back. We don’t know what the aliens call themselves, so we call them “twigs.” This is meant to be reminiscent of soldiers in Vietnam who fought “Charlie,” and those in Europe during the world wars who fought “krauts.” We dehumanize our human enemies to make the act of killing more palatable to the average soldier. So, it wasn’t a far leap to do the same for an alien invader.

But, I also dehumanized humanity in the novel. The aliens hunt us down, push us aside, and when we are out of the way; they ignore us. The “twigs” might have a similar derogatory term for humanity, but we may never know what that is. We see them as an infestation to be wiped from the planet, but they see us in the same light.

The real question is, when we come face to face with our foe and look them in the eye, are they really that different from us? Are they fighting for the same thing we are: a home?

About the Author: B.K. Bass

B.K. Bass is an author of science fiction, fantasy, and horror inspired by the pulp fiction magazines of the early 20th century and classic speculative fiction. He is a student of history with a particular focus on the ancient, classical, and medieval eras. He has a lifetime of experience with a specialization in business management and human relations and served in the U.S. Army. B.K. is also the Acquisitions Director for Kyanite Publishing, the Editor-in-Chief of the Kyanite Press journal of speculative fiction, and the Writing Department Chair for Worldbuilding Magazine. You can find out more about B.K. at https://bkbass.com.

What Once Was Home by B.K. Bass - A Book Review

What Once Was Home

A Book Review

The Cover Page

THIS IS A SPOILER FREE REVIEW

What Once Was Home by B.K. Bass, described in a nutshell, is a wonderfully imaginative science fiction title with a survival twist. Akin to post-apocalyptic titles such as titles from The Walking Dead universe or the Halo universe, this book really drove home the apocalyptic themes of dread and dismay in its opening chapters.

Beginning with an alien invasion seems to assign this book a certain genre convention that is hard to tackle. Alien invasions, in general, are almost often followed by the doom and gloom of far superior technology; pitting humans against almost insurmountable odds. My hanging criticism of alien invasion stories is how humans still, through some miracle, win against these odds with no regard for how realistic (I use that word loosely here) winning would be. Instead of What Once Was Home following with this trope, B.K. Bass has written an interesting spin on this trope that - in my opinion - works for this story.

The book begins by introducing us to our lead character in a distant future; an old, war torn Jace. Immediately after this introduction, I imagined that the book would focus on the aftermath of an alien invasion that had been won; giving more attention to factions of warring humans opposed to the invasion itself. This was an opinion I held through the opening Prologue but an opinion that was quickly shattered by the introduction of Jace at a very young age. This was something about the book I was not a huge fan of as, for me personally, it expelled all concern I would have for Jace's fate throughout the story. Right from the start of the book, we know Jace must survive in order to be an old man. This fact about the story was only strengthened by each chapter opening with autobiography segments from a book Jace would go on to write at a later age. 

Focussing more on these segments, overall, I enjoyed them. These sections, while reinforcing that Jace survives throughout the book, help set up storyline expectations for each chapter. This worked in favour for Bass as it allowed for him to shatter these expectations and write in plot twists throughout each chapter while laying seeds for story arcs later in the book. These segments help to fuel a burning desire to learn how the plot points of the chapter play out, opposed to the norm of wondering what each plot point of a chapter will be. In this sense the segments and the chapter titles work in unison to fuel this desire to know how rather than to know what. 

What Once Was Home can be praised for getting us right into the action come Chapter One. I like how Bass writes in terms of descriptions and how the story is told. However, the pace of the book is inconsistent chapter to chapter and the book moves too quickly from one scenario to the next for my own liking. For example, the time jumps early on in the book's chapters are fairly large compared to the time jumps between chapters later on. This quick pacing of the story also make some parts of the story feel told, rather than shown. To me, I feel as if this can take away from the character development in the sense that the readers need to be shown characters as much as they are told about them by the writer. This is only a slight criticism and by no way deducts from the enjoyability of the book in any major way.

Expanding upon the tell not show criticism, the book can feel narrated at times which can conflict with the 'live action' sequences written into the novel. However, this narration style works in conjunction very well with the autobiography segments. In this sense it makes the book feel as if a person is telling it which is the general vibe I get from the book at certain points.

Talking about the main charater, Jace, for a moment, he is well written, well described and follows certain tropes expected of a character of his calibre. He is consistently portrayed as an ultimate good which can be a bit cliché at times but stays consistent with his character profile that Bass has built up. The only thing about the character that I dislike is that it took me a bit of a stretch of the imagination at the initial introduction of Jace at such a young age. While the things Jace does in the earlier chapters are doable by a fourteen year old, I felt as if fourteen was too young of an age for the things he did and the things that occurred to him to be realistic. One example being Jace's interaction with the military during the opening chapters. 

Then we have where Bass shines; the alien antagonist. The aliens and how Bass has written them in this book is by far the most enjoyable and strongest aspect of the book. Having an alien invader that is both dangerous and fragile is a hard thing to do but Bass nailed it by having the aliens fragile as individuals but a force to be reckoned with in large groups. The conscious choice to have the aliens dehumanized in this book leads our main characters and us as readers into complex moral dilemmas later on in the book; moral dilemmas that aid in fleshing out both the protagonists and antagonists.

Our main antagonist, besides the alien threat, is a human we meet later on in the storyline. I was not a huge fan of how this human was introduced as their introduction felt a tad rushed and their backstory - I felt - needed another chapter or two to flesh them out accordingly. The main antagonist also falls victim to the cliché of being portrayed as an ultimate bad and due to how this character was introduced as well as how their backstory was handled, I struggled to connect with the character on a human level. While Bass succeeded in creating a villian that is the hero of their own story, I feel that he needed to delve deeper into who this character is and allow us as readers to get to know the character much better. My main criticism of the villian being that the character played into clichés and this stole away from building him up as a complex character.

To summarize, this book is an enjoyable read and a must read for any fans of the science fiction or science fantasy genres. Any fans of post-apocalyptic stories will also find a homage between the pages of What Once Was Home. I'd love to bring to the forefront the accuracy and niche knowledge of military based jargon and tactics that Bass brought to the book; this was a nice addition. However, the book does fall short when it comes to representation as there were no LGBT+ characters or strong female characters. All of the main leads, be in protagonist or antagonist, were male. I can also see this book being the first in a series to flesh out lore and characters as it does a very neat job of worldbuilding. Overall, certainly worth a read and can't wait to pick up another title from Bass!

What Once Was Home will be available for purchase on and after 25th October 2019 from Kyanite Publishing here.

Dream Party: A Free Flash Fiction (Horror) - Lore Publication

Dream Party: A Free Flash Fiction (Horror)

Hello and welcome to Lore Publication. Lore Publication is an online literary magazine or literary publication that publishes free short stories and free flash fiction. We also occasionally publish resources to help writers develop the craft such as writing tips and writing techniques too! In terms of fiction, we publish works of science fiction (scifi), horror, fantasy, mystery and thriller. We do consider a mix of these genres or sub-genres of these categories, so consider the categories a rough guideline for what we like to publish. Our mission is to give writers a platform to share their work and give readers free content for their reading needs! Just as free ebooks allow readers access to quality work without burning a hole in the wallet, our stories do the same thing! Lore is a community of writers and readers alike! With all that said, enjoy our latest publication.

Today we have a horror story to capture your imaginations. Based loosely on a true story, Dream Party was submitted to Lore by talented writer Christa Wojciechowski. Enjoy! 👀

Image credit: Alexas_Fotos via Pixabay

Trees droop in front of the warm light coming from inside the party. Her date rounds the car and takes her hand. He is handsome in his tuxedo, but she is the one that sparkles in beads the color of gold dust. He is a black, wooden stand for a fine piece of china.

The hostess welcomes them, a fair woman whose face is beautiful in its austerity. The room is full of tobacco smoke and murmurs in champagne breath. Canapes appear on their palms. Cocktails rimmed with rock sugar are slipped between their fingers.
Her date is whisked away, and she is forced to mingle on her own. She drinks more than she should and becomes unsteady in her glittering shoes.
“It’s time to be seated,” the hostess announces.

The guests seek out their place cards. She’s assigned next to an obnoxious man who rambles. He claims to have extraordinary powers. He’s a hypnotist, he says, but he doesn’t deal with trifles like quitting smoking or losing weight. No, he helps people process trauma from their past lives.

“You seem intuitive,” he says. “Don’t you sense the negative aura about this place?”
“No, I don’t.”
“A dark energy?”
“I feel quite the opposite. This is like a dream.”
“I can’t tolerate the blackness for very long.” He massages his temples. “Do you know the doctor?”
“Yes,” she says, the hostess’s husband, the old man with dementia. “He was a neurosurgeon back in Germany.”
“Yes, but do you know who he worked for?” He pauses and moves in closer to whisper, “The Nazis. He’s a hypnotist, like me, but he used his talent to anesthetize people, put them into a trance for experiments... amputations... euthanizations.” She’s tipsy now and openly laughs at him,

“Nonsense. He’s harmless.”  

“He’s evil. He pretends not to remember, but I know he does.” She never thinks about her heritage, but the absurd gossip unnerves her. 

She turns away from the man and to enter the others’ conversation. Her legs are numb from sitting. She grabs her date’s hand under the table and squeezes. The waiter never lets her drink fall past the middle. She prays dinner is over soon or she’ll have to be carried out. 

After dessert, she visits the hostess’s table to say goodnight. She tells the woman how much she enjoyed the atmosphere. Then she pays her respects to the doctor. Knowing he wouldn’t remember her, she reaches out and introduces herself. As soon as he grabs her hand, his milky eyes focus. He clamps her wrist and counts down, 

“Three, two, one… Wake!”

The party liquefies, churns into a new scene — a stark white room filled with men in stiff uniforms. The doctor’s blue eyes blaze in front of her. She looks down to where he pins her wrist against the armrest of her wheelchair. There was never a cocktail dress, only a hospital gown. There were no glittering shoes. There are no legs now either. 

Only pain.

---

Writer Information - Before You Go!

This creepy edition of flash fiction ‘Dream Party’ was written by Christa Wojciechowsk. You can find the author's website here where she has her other dark fiction; including books for sale. Christa also offers services, all the details can be found on her site. You can also follow her over on Twitter here.

While you are here, remember to follow Lore here on Blogger and never miss a story. We also have a Twitter account that you can follow for all our news and updates! Have a nice day.

The Oracular of Aetius: A Free Flash Fiction (Horror) - Lore Publication

The Oracular of Aetius - A Free Flash Fiction (Horror) - Lore Publication

Welcome to Lore Publcation; a place where writers can get their voices heard and where readers can get a monthly dose of free short stories and free flash fictions! If you are new here, Lore publishes stories from the horror, fantasy, science fiction (scifi), mystery and thriller genres for all your reading needs! Lore recognises that not everyone can afford frequent buying of books and not all writers get the chance to get their work out there and that is why free ebooks exist! Our free stories on Lore are no different!

Today we are publishing The Oracular of Aetius, a gruesome horror to curdle your blood! ❤👀

Image credit: cocoparisienne vai Pixabay

“Come.”

Her clear voice bounces off the walls. A faint echo of dripping permeates the silence. She’s just a girl; why am I scared? The moisture in the cavern is cloying. It’s the darkness. Any man would feel uneasy in here. My thighs tremble. The lamb bundled in my arms bleats. I squeeze to silence it.

“I said, come.” The flat demand of her voice pulls me forward. I reach a hand out feeling into the moist blackness ahead of me, stumbling and fumbling with the lamb. Despite my richly dyed robes and new calf leather sandals, I feel unimpressive.

I shuffle closer, my sandals scraping noisily on the slippery rock-hewn floor. At twenty feet, I can make out her shape. She sits on a tall wicker stool with thin spindly legs, like a precariously balanced spider. She leans forward, red robes spilling down her pale skin.

Virgin. Pythia. Oracle.

She tilts her head, her hood shifting. A smile tugs the corner of her generous lips, but it makes me feel less at ease. I already know the answer to my question. Why am I here?

“Aetius,” she draws my name out in a taunt. I amuse her, “You must step closer.” Her smile spreads to show smooth white teeth from under the hood. My grip tightens on the lamb. Shuffle, shuffle. I can smell the sulfuric fumes. Beneath her a slash in the rock encroaches. It sucks the darkness towards it. It’s deep.

At ten feet the smell is overpowering, rotting eggs in sewage. There’s an astringent tang. Alcohol? Her fingers are white knuckled as she clutches the curled chair arms. She’s leaning forward and her head bobs and dips ever so slightly. She’s drunk on the power of Apollo.

“Closer,” barely a whisper. I’m breathing heavily and squeezing the limp lamb to my chest. Five feet.

“Ask,” she says, her white teeth receding into a sneer.

“I…I…” I feel like vomiting.

“Yes?” She’s too relaxed. Does she already know what I will ask? Does that mean she already knows the answer? Why is she smiling?

I inhale and breath out. “I want to know if I will be remembered,” it all rushes out of me but I lose momentum at the end. “If I will be famous,” I finally exhale at the floor.

There’s silence. Then nothing. She’s still peering down at me. Her head still bobs. The humidity of the cavern is making the perspiration drip down between my shoulder blades.

Say something! Do something! I begin to look around the darkened room. Is anyone else in here?

I look back to her, but the smile is gone. She’s shaking. Convulsing. The chair begins to rock. I begin to tremble, gripping the lamb like a shield.

The chair can’t hold her, and she tumbles forward, just at my feet. The red robe slips. A rose-pink nipple. The flat of her pale stomach heaves in and out. She’s possessed. A demon is among us!

I’m transfixed by her writhing. She looks to be in pain, but she makes no noise. Her limbs twist and snake, then snap back into position. What is going on? Is she going to answer me? I lean over her.

Snap! Her forearm breaks and the white shard of her bone peeks from her flesh. I jump back. A fountain of blood gushes forth. She screams. I drop the lamb. It thuds softly. Smothered. Lifeless.

“Did you enjoy it? Did you feel powerful?” She’s no longer writhing. She’s panting, head steady with feline predation.

What is she talking about?

But I know.

“Do you believe your own lies?” She tilts her head. “Apollo does not. He hears what’s in your heart.”

All I can hear is the pounding of my heart.

“Murderer,” she says gently.

“No! It was an accident,” my hands go to my throat. She crawls towards me, her dangling arm dragging on the wet floor. Her legs slither and wave like a tail. I’m frozen. She’s possessed me. It is a demon! But it’s not me she wants.

It’s the dead lamb.

She presses her face into its flesh like a rabid wolf, her dark, wavy hair spilling forward. I can hear the ripping of flesh. It was an accident, a mistake! I did not plan it, it just happened. Yes, I am a good person, it’s she who lies, my mind soothes.With her pointed chin caked in wool and blood, she smiles her not-smile. Her tongue works at a little tatter of lamb skin in her teeth.

“You killed the girl!” She shouts. She lunges at me, grabbing my leg.

I urinate, the warmth saturating my robes as I fall backwards. “No! No! Please!” My voice is high and screechy. I try to pry her off me put I’m repulsed by the stench of her breath. “It was a long time ago! I did not mean it! Let me go!”

I can still see that girl’s blue lips, how her face contorted from shock to panic as I squeezed her throat. She refused to do as I said. What was I to do? Everyone would have known.

“The truth, Aetius! You will speak the truth before you earn your fame.” Her face is in my face, the lamb still in her teeth.

“I killed her!” I say. She’s not satisfied. “I felt powerful,” I tremble remembering it. Silence.

“I had fantasized of strangling her,” I cry like a child. Satisfied, she releases me.

“You still do glory over it,” she says, spitting out the bit of flesh from her teeth. “You will be remembered for as long as people praise your death.”

---

Writer Information - Before You Go!

This wonderful edition of flash fiction was originally selected as the Horror Category Winner in Lore’s 2018 Launch Writing Contest! Since then it has been ported here to our Blog on 30th July 2019. ‘The Oracular of Aetius’ was written by Rhea Kinslow.

Be sure to look out for Rhea's other work, visit follow Lore here on Blogger and check out Lore's account over on Twitter here to stay updated with every new release. Have a nice day!

A Diamond Among The Rough: A Free Flash Fiction (Science Fiction) - Lore Publication

A Diamond Among The Rough: A Free Flash Fiction (Science Fiction) 

 

Welcome to Lore Publication, a place to find free short stories and free flash fictions for all your reading needs! We publish horror, science fiction, fantasy, thriller and mystery themed stories and invite you to join us and support our writers. We pride ourselves on bringing you thought provoking fiction at no cost at all; free reading for the avid bookworm.We realize that not everybody can afford new ebooks and free ebooks are a way of combating this problem. Our free stories are no different! Today we are publishing A Diamond Among The Rough, an urban science fantasy fiction story! This story was origianlly submitted to Lore Publication for our launch competition and was selected as the Grand Winner from all the entries. With the launch of Lore Publication on blogger, it is now free to read right here as it was on Medium! With all that said, enjoy! 😄

Image credit: George Hodan

‘It was going to be another one of those nights,’ I thought as my car hovered around the corner. The flashing blue lights on it strobed against the sheets of rain. Despite the darkness, the city below was lit up in a neon haze that shed the gloom like a prostitute shed a stained dress. The call over the radio had been a routine one, something the police on the beat could have handled with ease were there not a body. This made the third tonight. Probably an overdose, or maybe some domestic bullshit. There were plenty of mysteries to be discovered on a night shift, but the most taxing of all was where I was going to find my next cup of java.

The question sat upon the crest of my mind as I set the car to the ground in front of the Twin Gates Hotel. The place was remarkably seedy in a region of the city not known for much else. The usual riffraff frequented the place; from addicts and pushers to hookers and pimps. That wasn’t unusual for this part of town, but the Twin Gates? The Twin Gates possessed a gnarly reputation for its bustling client list.

I pulled my coat tight as I stepped from my car. The rain buffeted me like the beatings my ex wife used to give. I reached into my pocket, pulling a cigarette from the slim packet that resided there. Lighting it, I walked through the front doors and into the main lobby. Smoke curled lazily under the wide brim of my hat before escaping on its journey to the stained ceiling. Hanse, a German-born immigrant, was behind the counter as per the norm. He was unusually quiet tonight, instead of spouting his tales about escaping the collapse of the European Union. The loose-lipped immigrant was far from innocent, but his cooperation kept him friendly with the department.

“Guten Tag,” he said as I strode to his desk. His suit was strikingly out of place when compared to the surroundings, as were his perfectly quaffed blonde locks. Were he not running the place, he most certainly would have passed for a pleasure drone; his perfectly smooth looking skin complementing his youth. He may even have the capacity to make more of a life for himself in that line of work, if he were not picky about male clients.

“So what’s the story Hanse?”

“Oh, just more of the same. Some poor mädchen took a knife for her troubles. Turns out you might actually have a case this time,” he replied.

“Wonderful,” I said sarcastically, “where is it?”

“The other officers are upstairs. Room 913.”

‘Great,’ I thought. Just what I needed. Anybody with a sense of the superstitious knew thirteen was always a bad sign. Unlike most hotels, The Twins even had a thirteenth floor; most places left the number out. Perhaps whoever owned the place wasn’t all that superstitious. Hanse never did use it, at least not for guests. As far as I knew the only thing up there was storage. Anything beyond that, I was better off not knowing.

It didn’t take the elevator long to screech down the metallic shaft to the ground floor. Stepping into the elevator, I took several long draws of the cigarette dangling out the corner of my mouth as it rose. The elevator chimed as the doors opened onto the ninth floor. Flicking the cigarette to the ground to smolder with its countless cousins, I stepped into a packed hallway.

It took me some time to navigate through the various hotel guests who had flocked to see what was going on. There were a few cops holding back the throng. The neon purple strip lights that lined the ceiling’s skirting flickered, lending the illusion of unnatural movement from that of the wavering crowd. It did not take me long to find Jones, a Sergeant that was reputable among the force for being a tough old bastard.

“What do we have?” It took Jones a moment to recognize me in the press of the crowd. We had worked together before,

“Typical poke and stab. Looks like her client didn’t want to pay her bill, so he gave her some new holes to work with,” he said. I gave a slight nod as he guided me into the room. The victim was lying sprawled across the bed with blood flowing across the satin sheets like an angel’s wings. Her naked flesh was almost perfect were the knife had not penetrated it. Her long hair had an orange dye job and her whole aesthetic matched the neon-themed glow of it. She must have been quite the earner before somebody had taken a disliking to her.

“It’s a shame, huh?” It was Jones speaking from my rear. Ignoring him, I bent over the body to get a closer look. It was evident that she had been stabbed more times than was necessary.

“Whoever did this Sergeant, wanted her dead. This wasn’t about money, it was a crime of passion. It also looks like the perp knew her.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Because there was no sign of a struggle,” I pointed to the window frame, “The window is sealed,” I then turned to the door, “and the only way in or out is the front door, and the lock isn’t broken.” I straightened up, addressing Jones again, “She knew whoever it was that killed her, and he was finished before she could even get off her back.” Jones walked forward to stand by my side, 

“Perhaps one of her regulars that got a bit too attached?”

“Looks like it. Check her accounts, get the details on her payees and start there,” I said, turning for the door. I took one last look back at the body sprawled across the bed. She could have had a better life, but now she was out of time. Dames for hire in this town were a dime a dozen, but this one had been a diamond among the rough.

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 Writer Information - Before You Go!

This wonderful edition of flash fiction was selected as the Science Fiction Category Winner in Lore Fiction’s 2018 Launch Writing Contest! It was written by American science fiction writer B.K. Bass.

B.K. Bass is an author of science fiction, fantasy, and horror inspired by the pulp fiction magazines of the early 20th century and classic speculative fiction. He is a student of history with a particular focus on the ancient, classical, and medieval eras. He has a lifetime of experience with a specialization in business management and human relations and served in the U.S. Army. B.K. is also the Acquisitions Director for Kyanite Publishing and the Editor-in-Chief of the Kyanite Press journal of speculative fiction. Be sure to check out B.K. Bass on his Twitter page here and support his work! You can also find his website here and Kyanite Publishing's website here.

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