October 31

Fictober, Prompt 31 – “Take me with you.”

Original fiction, dark fantasy.

Warnings: none.


Night had fallen, though the last lingering echoes of sunset still lightened the western horizon, a break in the trees showing thin clouds streaked bloody red along their undersides. The road led that way, shadowed by mostly bare branches. Wind whispered through the boughs, rustling the remaining leaves as October came to a quiet close.

There was a figure on the road ahead.

I hesitated, unsure both of my own decision and of what he might say, but in the end it didn’t matter.

I hurried forward, and gradually allowed my steps to become more audible on the packed earth of the road. Startling him would not make him more likely to agree.

“Wait,” I called, when I was close enough, keeping my voice low but not trying to make it sound human, as I had before. There was nothing to hide any more. “Wait, please!”

He paused at this, as he had not paused at my footsteps. I wondered if his hand was on his dagger under his cloak. I would not fault him if it was.

He turned only slightly, just enough to look at me over his shoulder, whatever he could see in the deepening dark.

We stared silently at each other for a long moment, my words suddenly sticking in my throat. This was the- the most astoundingly forward thing I had ever done, which seemed strange, given what I was, but was nevertheless true.

“Well?” he asked, patience running out, his tone wary but not angry.

My courage (a strange thing to suddenly need) rose slightly. The past weeks had been a mess, but he had not left until it was settled, and if he was not truly angry now…

“Please,” I said, finding my voice, “take me with you.”

He jerked in startlement, eyes going wide. “What?

“Please,” I repeated, finding that all my former arrogance had flowed away, sometime in the preceding days. I hadn’t realized it then, but could tell the difference now. “Please, take me with you.”

As he continued to gape at me speechlessly, I realized that I could not have astonished him more if I had tried. He had expected any request other than this one. I felt myself curl in a little, suddenly sure this had been a mistake. If it was so unexpected—

Just as I was about to step back, he turned fully, the astonishment on his face shifting into something else, something lighter, something like

“You—” he hesitated himself, just briefly, then continued, “You would want that?”

I nodded, not daring to move otherwise.

“But isn’t this your- your territory, or something? Don’t you have to be here?”

“It is,” I confirmed, “or it was. We— It is better, usually, to be settled somewhere, to have an anchor, but…”

But this was no longer a place I wished to be settled, I did not say. He seemed to understand anyway.

“But it is not a necessity, and sometimes it is good not to be so tethered to a place,” I continued, voice low again. “Sometimes our anchor can be— Can be a person, if they so agree.”

Confusion and the last of his hesitation fell away from his face, leaving him open and smiling as he had been for most of his time here.

“I didn’t think you would want to leave,” he confessed, and then nodded firmly. “Yes. If you’re wanting to come, then please, come with me.”

Relief, another sensation I had learned only recently, flooded me.

“I will,” I told him, and reached out.

He reached back, linking his hand with me, and then we continued west along the road together. The night deepened around us, no more lingering light of sunset. The hymns of the October wind took on a darker, eerier tone, and the forest on either side was neither empty nor silent.

But together, we would fear no road, and no future.


Happy Halloween! The “hymns of the October wind” line is lovingly borrowed from the song All Hallows by Aviators, which is a great Halloween song.

That’s it for Fictober for this year, and many thanks to @fictober-event for running it!

October 27

Fictober, Prompt 27 – “You could have died!”

Original fiction, horror.

Warnings: vampire, implied violent death(s), nothing graphic.


“There you are!” She scowled over at where I stood hesitantly in the doorway. “Where have you been? I’ve told you not to be out so late, and without even trying to let me know where you were.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, the words strange in my mouth. The sting of the usual scolding felt muted, at least a little bit.

“Well, what are you standing there for? Come in!” She turned away, and I took a careful step over the threshold. “There’s work to be done. Did you think you’d get out of it if you slunk off somewhere? With your sister out of the house now, there’s more work for fewer hands, so you’d better put those notions right out of your head.”

“I’m sorry,” I said again. The words came more naturally now, but still not quite right. “I’m sorry, I— I encountered a vampire.”

“You what?” she shrieked, spinning to stare at me, horrified. “What on earth possessed you to wander into the territory of those creatures? You could have died!”

I closed my eyes, swallowed against the terrible thirst, felt the strange, unpleasant shifting of my teeth.

I opened my eyes again, and looked right at her.

“I did.”

Then, I stopped fighting the thirst.

October 25

Fictober, Prompt 25 – “Do you know what time it is?”

Original fiction, fantasy.

Warnings: implied but unspecified looming disaster.


The door creaked open behind me.

“Do you know what time it is?” she asked softly.

Groggily, I lifted my head from my arms, blinking in the guttering candlelight. “’m awake.”

She laughed, and I felt her hands settle on my shoulders. “That’s not what I asked.”

“Late,” I mumbled then head falling back to my arms. I had to get this spell right, or we would be in trouble—

“There’s time yet,” she reassured me, understanding my answer. “Come, get some sleep.”

I sighed, silently agreeing, but didn’t raise my head just yet. Obviously I wasn’t going to accomplish anything more without at least a few hours’ rest, but the delay rankled. We did have a little time, but…

Lifting my head again, I peered through the window as best I could.

Outside, ash was still falling.

Through the thick, clouded glass, you could almost mistake it for snow.

We had a little time, but not much.

Still, I rose with her gentle hands to guide me, and blew out what was left of the candle. The delay would be worth it if rest would actually let me accomplish something again. I followed her out into the main room and joined her in our bed. The fire was banked and low, but her warmth lingered under the covers, and she pulled me close gladly.

Fortunately, getting up had not woken me enough to set my brain racing, and I felt myself drifting off properly almost as soon as I settled against her shoulder, and even the last, niggling little thought was not enough to keep me awake.

Outside, the ash was falling.

October 20

Fictober, Prompt 20 – “That’s what I’m known for.”

Original fiction. Not really fantasy, medieval-ish setting.

Warnings: stabbing, violent death.


The tavern was crowded, and noisy enough to cover such private conversations as might occur around the edges of the room. I wasn’t surprised when a hooded figure slid into the booth opposite me, but didn’t allow the newcomer to interrupt my meal. The stew on offer at this place was tasty, and their ale above average.

Sometimes I regretted the work that necessitated my constantly being on the move, but it couldn’t be helped – not in my profession.

After a few moments, the silence grew awkward for my prospective client, and he shifted in his seat, clearing his throat. The hood slipped back a bit, revealing a strong jaw below light eyes and hair. Appealing enough, I supposed, if you liked that sort of thing.

I took another bite of potato and chewed, holding his gaze calmly.

“Are you Ligart?” he asked then, voice a pleasant tenor.

I swallowed the potato, said, “I am,” and bit a piece of turnip off my knife.

“They say…” he said, trailing off suggestively. When I did not volunteer to fill in this gaping conversational hole, he reluctantly went on, “They say that you…take care of problems.”

“That’s what I’m known for,” I agreed, and speared the last piece of meat left in my bowl.

Finishing the stew took up the time he needed to gather his courage again and lean forward to say, even more quietly, “They say that you take care of problems even when they’re people.”

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October 18

Fictober, Prompt 18 – “This was not part of the plan.”

Original fiction, back on my we-need-more-dinosaurs-in-fantasy agenda.

Warnings: none? Implications that a large predator eats meat? Definitely nothing graphic.


“This was not,” I said through gritted teeth, “part of the plan.”

Above and behind me, Shufen’s laugh sounded, though I wouldn’t have thought she could hear me through the sack. “I promised to bring you with us, didn’t I?”

“This was not what I had in mind, and you know it!” I said, louder this time. All I got for the trouble was a snort of air from immediately overhead, a sudden extra swing increasing the nauseating odor of the sack, and another laugh from Shufen. I shifted, trying to ease muscles cramped from being curled up in the same position for so long. It didn’t help.

“Ah, but who will look for you here?” she asked. “As you long as you are good and stay still and quiet, they will simply think that Hong is carrying his leftovers along. You will arrive safely, as promised.”

I could not dispute that her plan would probably achieve this goal, but still muttered lowly about the stink. It was a small heavenly mercy that I could not actually see the large, sharp teeth hooked through the sack above me, for that would have been much harder to contemplate all these long hours. The big predator would not eat me, I knew (he and Shufen were strongly bonded and a good hunting team), but my conscious mind could not always completely overrule the perfectly natural instinct that it was not safe to be so close to one of Hong’s kind.

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October 17

Fictober, Prompt 17 – “I’m with you, you know that.”

Original fiction, vaguely Japanese-inspired fantasy.

Warnings: nothing graphic, but: past deliberate burning of a home, implied death.


I stood beside a rocky outcrop, looking down at the vast plain below. The rock did nothing to shelter me from the hot wind that blasted up from the bare rock and sand below, whipping my tattered clothes around me. Once vivid with blues and greens and golds, the robes were mostly gray now, frayed at the hems, and patched too many times. But I had so little left, after the fire, and I was loath to give them up, even now.

Even if I’d been willing to part with them, I wouldn’t have been able to afford much better.

The short sword at my left hip was the only thing I really had left of my family’s legacy at this point, and the only reason that I had any real recollection of what our crest was supposed to be.

Soft footfalls behind me, and then the strange, soft whoosh that was the only sound accompanying Yū’s shifting. Slightly louder steps, sandaled feet on rock as he came to stand behind me, looking out easily over my head at the army assembled below, their fires beginning to glow brighter as the sun dropped toward the horizon in a spill of blood-red light.

I waited, but the yōkai said nothing…which was its own answer. It hadn’t really been in question anyway: my enemy was below, surrounded by an army, and if any planned to stand against him before it was too late, they were not yet in evidence.

It was just me, then, me and a plan for vengeance that was as insane as it was just.

Well.

Me and Yū.

As if reading my thoughts (a talent he had never confirmed or denied), he said, “I’m with you, you know that.”

My eyes closed, trying to hold back tears at the surge of gratitude his words brought.

I still didn’t really know what I had done to attract the yōkai’s interest and support. He had found me weeping in the remnants of my burnt-out home, years ago, and stayed with me ever since. I’d done everything I could to be a good companion, of course, especially in the early years when he had kept strictly to animal forms. They had never been quite normal animal forms, and of course the fact that had shifted between them had told me of his true nature from the beginning.

I had never asked outright, and the only thing he had ever said himself on the subject was that he had existed on or near my family’s ancestral lands for a very long time. That, and his easy acceptance of my quest to see justice done against the man who had destroyed us (and so many others), were probably all the answer I would ever get…or need.

Having him at my back now was more than I could ever possibly repay him for, never mind everything else he had done for me since that terrible day. My near-worshipful thanks seemed to be all he truly wanted in return, no matter how I pressed.

“We are stronger together,” he said, and I felt the warmth of his power rise at my back. I let my own power, hard-won but at least not gained at the cost of anything I could not afford, circulate and rise to my skin in answer.

“We are stronger than you know,” Yū whispered, stepping closer, so that we were nearly touching.

I smiled, and opened my eyes. “I believe you.”

“I know. That is why.”

I nodded acceptance, of his support and of whatever would come next. Looking below, I saw that the fires were bright and numerous across the plain. The army would be settling in for the night – with no rival power to challenge them, they would have set only a standard watch.

“Come,” Yū told me, “let us show them what we can do.”

One last breath.

“Yes.”


yōkai – the closest English word is “specter,” but in Japanese this covers a whole class of supernatural entities/spirits which I feel is not reflected well in the word specter. They can often shapeshift, and range across a spectrum in terms of their potential benevolence or malevolence toward humans. The Wiki article about them seems decent.

October 16

Fictober, Prompt 16 – “Not this again.”

Original fiction, fantasy-ish.

Warnings: none.


There was a knock on the door.

I stopped, set down my spoon, and buried my face in my hands.

Maybe, I thought wistfully, maybe if I don’t move they’ll think no one is home and go away.

The knocking came again, more urgently. Giving up, I wiped my hands on my apron, made sure that I had all my protective sigil bands on at wrists, ankles and neck, and headed for the door. If these people were going to turn up unannounced at all hours, then they would just have to deal with the fact that I wasn’t dressed for company.

“Not this again,” I said, hauling the door open, “whatever it is you think I can do, I can’t, and no amount of money or wheedling is going to change—”

I cut off abruptly as I saw the two young men on my doorstep. Both dark-haired, the one on the right was staring at me with wide dark eyes and a dismayed, nearly despairing expression. He was supporting his companion, who was unconscious or close to it, head rolled forward so that I couldn’t get a good look at his face.

“You’re- You’re not the artificer?” the first man whispered. “I heard…”

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October 14

Fictober, Prompt 14 – “Your information was wrong.”

Original fiction, sci-fi.

Warnings: none.


“But I thought—”

“You thought wrong.”

“But the information—”

“Your information was wrong.”

“You can’t just—”

I stopped and spun to face him. “I can,” I spat, out of patience. “I can and I will, or a lot of people are going to die.”

He shrank back, wringing his hands. “How was I supposed to know? You can’t blame me! I couldn’t have known.”

“You could have,” I said, merciless. “You could have, but you didn’t.” With that, I turned my back on him and strode purposefully for the hangar bay again.

Fortunately, someone had listened to the emergency message I’d put through scarcely half an hour ago, and my ship was already most of the way fueled. Rayen was there too, even though she should have been sleeping during this cycle. I shot her a grateful look as she handed me a half-completed pre-flight checklist and quickly looked over the first half for myself before moving on to the rest.

“Will you make it in time?” she asked. Word had spread, then, about the looming disaster. Dust and flares save us from petty bureaucrats and their delusions!  

“I think so,” I said, but couldn’t keep the grim edge out of my voice. Rayen grimaced and went to grab me basic supplies. I looked up at my Wailing Wind, just for a breath, taking in her sleek lines. She was the fastest ship on this station, and the only one that had any hope of reaching the Odyssey before they activated the faulty deep-space drive.

In a feat of coordination and effort on the part of the hangar bay team that I was going to buy them all a round of drinks for when (if) I got back, it was less than another quarter hour later that I was strapped in and running final checks.

“Smooth run,” Rayen said, clapping my shoulder once before climbing down so I could lower the canopy.

The marshallers directed me through the remaining ships and through this side of the hangar bay’s massive airlock, which whirred closed behind me much faster than usual. The doors ahead began opening almost before the inner ones were closed, also sliding open quicker than was probably good for the machinery.

We all knew someone on the Odyssey, and most of us gave a damn what happened to them.

Then the starfield yawned dark before me, the last go signal chimed through from traffic control, and I eased Wailing Wind out of the bay and just far enough from the station to not cause any damage before slamming the throttle wide open.

Stars streaked into lines of light around me, and the station fell behind into the dark.

I was going to make it, I promised everyone silently, no matter what.

October 12

Fictober, Prompt 12 – “You keep me safe.”

Original fiction.

Warnings: stalking, implied past abuse, threatened violence, monster, horror-adjacent, hopeful ending.


The man was there again.

He stared up at the house, searching the windows eagerly for any flicker of light, any sign of movement…any sign of her.

I had already warned him off twice, and slow anger coiled through me to see him here again, in my territory. He was standing just off the edge of the property that went with the house, but that was irrelevant – the human notions of property lines were not applicable to my kind, and my territory stretched far out beyond the neighborhood around us. I had chosen one of the more distant houses, set back from the street and a yard filled with mature trees, though those admittedly obscured less of the view now with half their leaves on the ground.

I contemplated the man from the shadow of one of those trees, knowing that he had not seen or sensed me yet.

Ellie had neither requested nor required any promises from me, regarding what I could or could not do to him. She had asked only for sanctuary, an honor I had not expected, even though she had known my true nature for many years now.

But, as glad as she was to rest for a time, I knew that this could not go on much longer. She had her life yet to live, and he would try to prevent that from happening. Still, her very silence on the subject made me hesitate.

Thrice, I decided, was both traditional and sufficient. I would warn him once more, and give him a little bit more incentive this time to stay away.

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October 11

Fictober, Prompt 11 – “I swear, it’s not always like this.”

Original fiction.

Warnings: none.


“Wait,” he said, stopping before I could hurry us through the next door. “Was that a real dinosaur?”

“No,” I said quickly, “No, it was not. This way.”

It was certainly a dinosaur, of course, but given its origins, one could technically debate the term “real.”

Understandably, Toshiaki did not find this especially convincing, but he let me push him along to the next room and get the door closed. The little protoceratops was pretty well settled these days, and not aggressive, but best not to chance it.

And Kanchana wasn’t overly fond of it anyway.

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