After generating the list of genres to write for the month, I turned my attention toward selecting the character to spearhead the initial tale, a fantasy. While I have a sizable collection of characters I can draw upon for these stories, I ultimately selected Amelia. Although I had the beginnings of a storyline in mind for her, I wanted this piece to focus on a singular moment that explored her personality. To date, I’ve largely highlighted the depths of her power, but Patreon presents me with the opportunity to explore quieter moments that grant some of my more widely available characters additional depth.
The world can be an unforgiving place for those touched by forces others could never experience, let alone comprehend. Fear spreads faster than violence, especially when storms linger overhead and travelers arrive with rumors fresh on their heels. While some villages close their doors and pray for danger to pass them by, others discover that kindness and caution aren’t always enemies. Sometimes the most revealing moments come when ordinary people decide whether fear will govern their actions.
Amelia carries a quiet weight wherever she travels, and the reactions she inspires say as much about the people she encounters as they do about her actions. The tension within this tale doesn’t come from drawn swords, assaults, or monsters seeking their next meal. Instead, it rests within glances, hesitation, and the fragile choices people make when fear takes hold.
It explores the uneasy space between reputation and reality. Villagers whisper, storms gather, and a weary traveler searches for nothing more complicated than water and a place to rest. Yet beneath the rain and wary stares rests a quieter question about what people choose to do when fear feels justified.
Excerpt of Thunder and Strangers
Amelia strode out of the forest and toward the outskirts of the village. She paused a stone’s throw away from the nearest building, glancing at the brooding clouds hanging over them. She brushed rain from her face as she passed the first one. With each step, the villagers tracked her progress.
As she neared the tavern, the darkest clouds hovering over the village lightened. As they thinned overhead, the rain weakened with them. When she stepped to the door, a thick-bodied man blocked her, inclining his head. “There’s no room available here.”
Amelia peered past the burly figure, water streaming down her cheeks. Her gaze drifted back to his, and her lips drew into a severe line. She inclined her head and turned toward the town square as the storm ceased. After cracking her neck, she marched out as villagers emerged from their homes, pausing under awnings as their eyes followed the drenched woman as she neared the cistern.
She lowered the bucket into the well before hauling it onto the stone rim. Amelia pulled a small wooden dish from her bag and filled it. As she sipped the cold water, a young boy approached and pointed at her.
“Can I assist you?”
The child shook his head as he peered into the pail. “Did you stop the storm?”
“No,” Amelia said, scoffing as she brought the bowl to her lips. After she finished the drink, she refilled it as she leaned closer to the youth. “Why would you think that?”
The boy’s finger drifted to the clearing sky as he grinned. “The rain stopped after you came into town.”
Warm laughter escaped Amelia as she sipped more well water. She set the dish beside the bucket and tightened the wet wrappings around her hands. Then she reclaimed her drink and patted the young boy’s cheek. “Every storm blows out when it’s done.”
The child glanced up at Amelia and opened his mouth, but a second woman grabbed him and pulled him away from Amelia. The woman leaned down to him. “You shouldn’t bother strangers.”
The youth freed himself from the woman’s grip, then faced her. “But, Mom—”
“I’m serious, Greg.”
Amelia shoved her cup into her bag and nodded toward the mother.
“Please donate. It’s how we take care of the well,” the boy said, pointing at the container attached to the well’s side.
“Excuse me?” Amelia turned and followed the child’s finger. The cracks between the worn stones overflowed with moss. She rounded the structure and discovered a small box with a slit wide enough for coins. She offered the child a faint grin as she crept closer. “Are people expected to pay whenever they need to satisfy their thirst?”
“It’s how we take care of the well,” he said with a shrug.
The child’s mother pulled him to her chest as she flashed an awkward smile at Amelia.
If you enjoyed this excerpt and would like to help shape future exclusives, become a patron and join me on this journey.
For as little as $2 a month, you’ll unlock the conclusion of this story, gain access to the full back catalogue, and even help guide my future stories by selecting the genres I explore.