With the completion of Inquiries and Encroaching Shadows, I tackled the final story for February my Historical Fiction. But I needed a seed to plant so a story could grow. So once more I ran towards the trusty source of writing prompts, NYC Midnight. As I searched the document, I ended up on a Historical fiction that takes place in a tenement building with a grater making an appearance along the way...

While a gnarled man with wild white hair walked in front of his bookshelf, his finger traced the spine of each book on the fifth shelf from the floor. When he felt the one constructed with dragon scales, he stopped and grinned. He pulled the volume from its fellows and clutched it to his chest, marching for the table in the middle of the room. “Semil, where are you?”

“I’m doing what you instructed me to do,” the young man said, rushing into the library. He peered over an eclectic collection in his arms. “Should I discard these ingredients?”

The elderly man thumped the book down and pulled his robes tightly against his chest. He waved his hand across his throat, screaming, “Silence!”

Semil frowned and tried to speak, but nothing escaped his lips. With his eyes narrowing to slits, he dropped his load. He tapped his neck and shoved his fingers towards the old man.

With a sigh, the older man opened his tome and began flipping through sheets until his mouth curled into a smile. He jabbed his finger down and dragged it across the lines. When he finished absorbing the information, he pulled the ribbon out and laid it between the pages. The gnarled man circled the table, rummaging through the components scattered across the floor.

The silenced Semil stepped on a groping finger and tapped his throat.

With a wave of his free hand, the wizard brushed the boy off and rose, rubbing his extremities. “That was unwise, Semil.”

The boy’s finger dug into his neck as his eyes bulged and his lips curled into a scowl.

“Fine,” the mage said with another complex motion of his fingers. “But remember, your place.”

Semil rubbed his jaw as he pulled the open book towards him. “I am sorry for my tone, Milos.”

The wizard shook his head as he continued examining the trinkets. “I need you to fetch me the dragon’s tooth and the diamond dust.”

“Why are we summoning a dragon?” Semil backed up as his eyes widened. “Calling upon dragons is never wise. You told me that!”

“I’m aware of your lessons. And for you, attempting this would be beyond foolish.” Milos thumped his chest and continued. “While there is a slight risk for me, the potential gains outweigh it.”

“The initial page of this book is a warning not to summon them!”

The wizard rose and pulled the tome out of his apprentice’s hands. “Events that don’t concern you are coming to a bursting point. Suffice to say, defending my lands will require a dragon’s unrelenting strength.”

“Do you believe that diamond dust alone will placate something as proud and as temperamental as a dragon?”

Milos slammed an iron bar down. “Do as you’ve been instructed! I need those ingredients sooner rather than later.”

“As you wish,” Semil said, offering a stilted bow before hustling into the depths of the fortress.

Milos confirmed the list in the book and gathered the components strewn across the floor. He returned to the table and arranged each around his tome. He retrieved a mortar and pestle from a small cabinet and began chanting as he crushed the ingredients into a paste.

“Your claw and diamond dust,” Semil said, dropping them onto the opened pages.

The wizard scooped the tacky mass out and smeared it across the talon. Milos wiped the excess off the table and cleared his throat, resuming his chant. When Milos’s words repeated, the book’s text swirled, forming a vortex.

“Milos, you’re making a grave mistake,” Semil said as the funnel’s spin accelerated as it receded into the pages.

As if on cue, a white dragon launched out of the maelstrom and grew. Smoke billowed from the flying creature as it swelled, while the wizard continued to chant. By the time it finished growing, Milos backed into the far wall. Its wings brushed the ceiling as the clawed feet made furrows in the stone floor. Its head reared up and unleashed a roar, silencing Milos. “Why did you summon me?”

Milos bowed his head and proffered the bag of diamond dust. “I have need of your strength.”

The dragon slipped a talon through the throng of the pouch and lifted it. The beast waved the gift as its head swayed like a scale, judging the pouch’s worth. “What do you want from me?”

Milos’s hand pointed to the west. “There is an army marching towards my home.”

“And that means what to me?”

“I desire that you destroy it.” Milos pointed at the bag hanging on the claw.

“And this is all you offer?”

Milos stood straighter and asked, “What else would you require to honor this request?”

The dragon’s neck swiveled about the room, studying its contents. Eventually, the white dragon closed its eyes and took several deep breaths. The thin lips curled up, revealing its wickedly sharp teeth. The serpentine neck dropped, placing an opening eye next to Milos’s. “You’ve embedded great power into this place.”

“It’s not enough to deflect the approaching menace.”

The dragon’s eyes narrowed. “But it would make a wonderful home.”

“You want my land?”

“I’d be willing to share it.”

Semil edged around the dragon, clutching Milos’s arm. “You shouldn’t agree with this.”

“How would that arrangement work?” Milos asked, backing away from the dragon.

“You will create a place for me under your keep, and we’ll ignore each other. And when invaders come for you, I’ll defend my home.”

“Done,” Milos said.

“Excellent,” the dragon said as it shrunk. The diminutive form flew out a window and once freed from the confines, it grew to its full size and raced off towards the approaching army.

“Deals with dragons are never simple,” Semil said.

“True,” Milos said, “but without its help, I would lose my home.”

“I fear while you’ve defended your fortress, you have traded one danger for something worse.”

“You worry too much, Semil. Now leave me. I must hold up my end of the bargain.”

With the Captain curtailing the rights of his crew, Rylan searches for a way to keep his team safe. He reaches back to his roots as a technician, and attempts to retrieve the information from the salvaged data assembly. And because he refuses to diminish their ultimate survival, he keeps most of his decisions from his lieutenants...

As I finished Inquiries, my attention turned to the next genre for the month of February. I’ve written a few Fairy Tales, and each one was fun, though I believe my first, The Noodle Trap to be the best of the bunch. But with that said, I started digging into the potential story. While I used a different source of prompts for the first story, I returned to NYC Midnight and picked the prompt placing my story at a family reunion and featuring a fireplace...

Darren, Maxwell, and Roland leave the Academy for a night of relaxation. They head for a local restaurant for a meal, camaraderie, and recreation. The three intend to stay until the restaurant closes. And Darren wants to find out the truth about a rumor floating around the school...

With the ever looming danger the world possesses and no allies, Tarian shifts his focus to the dead creature that attacked him. He arranged for the brightest people to delve into the mysteries the body can illuminate. Over the course of a week, the colony’s scientists are unable to discover anything. Tarian unwilling to wait any longer barges in and demands what they have...

With February’s polls complete, I turned my focus to the first story for the month, a Drama. This time instead of heading to NYC Midnight, I turned to a different source for a prompt, a first line generator. The text message said, very clever… I stared at that line for a while as I let the ideas percolate. Thoughts rushed into my mind but I kept knocking them away. None of those thoughts seemed like a good foundation for a story...

When dealing with fantasy, the words full moon invokes a particular image. They prepare the reader to encounter werewolves. So before starting to listen to this story, I expect the heroes to deal with some shape-shifting menace. Or if such a being isn’t the central antagonist, it would play a significant part in this case file. Much to my delight, the opening pages of this novel live up to the expectation.

In Tombyards & Butterflies, Orlando Sanchez paints a typical word picture of these creatures only to upend that image in the initial chapter of the book. In this scene, a werewolf is seeking help from the detectives. During that meeting, he informs the duo he’s sick, and before much else can happen something forces him to transform, without the full moon. Oh, and as a bonus, the creature is immune to all of its weaknesses. The result is a rampaging monster that the detectives kill in self-defense...

Three months after promising the railroad, Nathaniel examines the latest report of destruction by the wildlife. Once more, he’s having to balance the requirement for weaponry or repairing the damaged tracks. While eating a meal, Marcus barges in to discuss the status of the tracks and latest from Kethra ploy...

After the alliance with the Dwarves and Elves shattered, Tarian spends his time sulking in the former meeting hall. As the days and weeks march on, only Keldon can disturb his solitude. Though those meetings continue growing briefer...

With two Patreon stories down, I focused on the last tale for January, a Political Satire. Getting these stories always is a mixed bag, because I’m not a political person. In fact I try to avoid the news altogether. But there are times when I can let some of my personal beliefs bleed through and takle particular issues...

With both teams back on the boat, the Captain plots a course back home. The entire crew is somber with the destruction of everything they have ever known. While some members can cope with this enormous loss, others become ill-mannered with short tempers...

With my first Patreon tale completed, I turned my attention to working on my second story, a Historical Fiction. I’ve gotten this genre a few times and they are always fun. They require a lot of work, but they’re enjoyable to craft. The last one I wrote in this genre was Letters for the NYC Midnight competition. Just like with Letters, I dug into the history of the period to graft clues to ground the piece in its place in history...

“Why do we need the escort?” The navigator asked while she referenced her map.

The pilot’s fingers tightened around the steering yoke as he inquired, “Aside from us being at war?”

“Their aircraft aren’t as advanced as ours, Erik,” she said, leaning into her seat. The young woman pulled her legs onto the edge of the chair, wrapping them up with her arms.

“True,” Erik hedged. “Unfortunately, that’s not the only aspect of warfare. Their sorcery far outstrips ours.”

“What can five witches do for us?”

Erik covered his mouth, stifling a yawn, then snatched the microphone from the console and switched channels..

I hope everyone is enjoying the New Year. When I collected the votes from the Patreon Poll for January, I was excited to work on the Crime Caper. I’ve gotten a few of those recently, so I count on everybody being ready to revisit Jessica in her latest transgression...