Ganymeder

With the coming of the great equine people, outdated modes of power fell into disrepair and decay.

*image courtesy of The Library of Congress via Flickr. No known copyright restrictions.

Play or download episode *here*

Welcome to My Writing Niche, a podcast for new writers. I’ll read my latest piece of flash fiction, Carnal Nature, and talk a little about my current projects.

Also, if you are interested, my review of the short story series Lost Tribe of the Sith by John Jackson Miller is up at the Functional Nerds website.

Thank you, as always, for your time. Polite feedback is both welcomed and appreciated. Have a lovely week.

**image courtesy of hiddedevries via Flicker.

***Slow Burn from the album Blues Sampler courtesy of Kevin MacLeod via Creative Commons Attribution license. More of his music can be found at FreeMusicArchive.org or at http://incompetech.com.

Frederick too comfort in the shape of his new home.

*image courtesy of Musee McCord Museum via Flickr. No known copyright restrictions.

Marjory contemplated the secret passageway with chagrin. Why was it always a giant tree?

*image courtesy of Musee McCord Museum via Flickr. No known copyright restrictions.

The period recreation of New Paris startled the indigenous lifeforms with its splendor.

*image courtesy of Brooklyn Museum via Flickr. No known copyright restrictions.

Play or download episode *here*

Welcome to My Writing Niche, a podcast for new writers. I’ll read my latest piece of flash fiction, Rumplestilkstin, and talk a little about my current projects.

Thank you, as always, for your time. Polite feedback is both welcomed and appreciated. Have a lovely week.

**image courtesy of hiddedevries via Flicker.

***Slow Burn from the album Blues Sampler courtesy of Kevin MacLeod via Creative Commons Attribution license. More of his music can be found at FreeMusicArchive.org or at http://incompetech.com.

Rumplestilkstin

The Queen had but one bright spot in her life, and soon he would be gone forever.

As a young girl, her father had lied and bragged that she could spin straw into gold. The greedy King had overheard his subject’s drunken boast, and imprisoned the girl with one command – Spin gold by morning or die. The Queen remembered how she had sat at the spindle and wept bitterly for the life she would never lead.

But then the creature, a little man of light and shadow, had appeared from nowhere – like a miracle. He seemed to pity her misfortune and offered to aid her in her need. How could she know how high his price would be? How could she choose to do anything but live?

The creature had spun the straw throughout that night so many years ago. His fingers flew, and soon the cold gleam of gold replaced the musty straw. The air tasted of metal. Before the sun rose again, the little man had disappeared without a word.

The Queen still remembered the King’s delight with the night’s work. Instead of taking her life, the cruel King had taken her hand in marriage – an act he soon repented when he found she had no gift for gold. Over the years, he made her suffer for wasting his life on a common maid.

And yet, after years of pain, she had given birth to the child – the bright shining sun around which her life revolved. The King almost forgave her…

But then the little man returned.

The Queen wept bitterly as the gnarled little man snatched the squalling bundle from her arms. She turned her face into her husband’s chest, heaving great sobs at the loss of her beloved child.

“In three days’ time,” said the little man, his eyes filling with tears, “if you guess my name… I will return the child to you.”

The silent King wrapped his wife in his arms. His eyes shot daggers at the dwarfish figure scurrying into the shadows. All too soon, the child’s screams died with distance.

Once home, the little man removed his hood and hushed the child in his arms. “There, there,” he cooed, producing a bright golden rattle. The babe’s eyes lit up, and soon the creature’s cottage reverberated with the sound of childish laughter. The creature treated the child well, fed him sweets and all nature of good things for three days. Then he returned to the queen.

“Do you know my name?” he asked. His name was a secret, shrouded in mystery; and he did not fear her answer.

But then, he did not know of her spies. He did not how they had heard him sing the child to sleep, sing his own name – in the security of his home – as he promised to care for the child as his very own.

Now the moment for truth had come.

The Queen glanced once at the harsh face of her husband, again at the little man cradling her child in his arms, and answered, “No.” She washed the infant’s face with her tears when she kissed him one last time.

The little man turned and walked from the castle, humming a tune for the child. The Queen returned to her gilded prison, secure in the knowledge that at least her child was free.

The end

*image courtesy Cornell University Library via Flickr. No known copyright restrictions.

Their glass menagerie was by far the loveliest in the galaxy.

*image courtesy of National Media Museum via Flickr. No known copyright restrictions.

Gregory marveled from inside the biodome. He would never get used to the beauty of a Martian sunset.

*image courtesy of OSU Special Collections & Archives via Flickr. No known copyright restrictions.

Play or download episode *here*

Welcome to My Writing Niche, a podcast for new writers. Today I’ll talk about inspiration, as well as read my latest piece of flash fiction, Captain P.

Thank you, as always, for your time. Polite feedback is both welcomed and appreciated. Have a lovely week.

**image courtesy of hiddedevries via Flicker.

***Slow Burn from the album Blues Sampler courtesy of Kevin MacLeod via Creative Commons Attribution license. More of his music can be found at FreeMusicArchive.org or at http://incompetech.com.