Timepest

Back Cover Blurb for 'Chronicles of Ardis: Reckonings,' by Tracy L Reeves.           “Hear the tale of Reshna the far-traveled, hailing from the Lands of Bounty. Hear the words recorded of she with hair like bright copper and eyes like glass-flecked zophrite. Know that this fair one, a mere metal maker’s daughter, stood with those of her bearing, facing forces few others could withstand…”           It is Pavrenisis, the fourteenth and final month in the Ardan calendar. It is a time of remembrance, culminated by Vernas, the capital city of Degna, with the Feast of Lights. But before any preparations can be completed

"Ashem vohû vahishtem astî ushtâ astî ushtâ ahmâi hyat ashâi vahishtâi ashem…" It was called Avestan, the language of Zoroastrian Scripture. A sacred one, this status ensured its continuance into new compositions long after mundane and supernatural scholars deemed to no longer a living language. Its name was taken from the Avesta, the primary collection of sacred texts of Zoroastrianism which was as important to Shahid al-Razi as the Bible was to the Christian Faith or the Quran to the Muslim Faith. The words uttered in the cell sounded reminiscent of plainchant. 'Holiness [Asha] is best and good: it is also happiness. Happy the man who is h

What Lies Within: Part 1 It was a three-story antebellum mansion situated upon a hundred acre estate. The eastern portion of the grounds held a well kept cemetery; tombstones and vaults well kempt, the oldest of which was dated to 1844. Situated before the mansion was a fountain containing a statue of Lady Justice wrought from the finest gray emery in memory of the past history of the house, serving as a courthouse when the old one burned down as the birthplace of some of the most famous judges in the city. The northern and southern portions of the estate were a combination of large oaks, magnolias, bay and trees, various flowers and herbs,

“Aunt Harriet, why did I… we… awaken?” It was a cool Saturday afternoon. Though summer still reigned, fall had carefully begun to creep upon the land and though many trees were still green, there were some that were showing the first signs of changing colors. Subtle hints of yellow, red, and orange flashed among leaves of green as the wind picked up slightly. The boy sat there on the swing with his aunt, former Hierarch of Ruston and History Professor at Louisiana Tech University. The question was not really posed to her, more so it was uttered smoothly from his lips. Perhaps it was the fact that out of all the members of

It smelled like… roses? Wait… he had died, didn’t he? There had been a great blackness without beginning or end that had descended upon him. Just seconds before that, he had done everything he could to help hold back the threat of the Tick Tock men that seemed to overwhelm them without question. He gave it his all and finally fell to the ground and gave up the ghost. Or at least he assumed he did. There was a sea of color; though not comprised of every hue and shade in the visible spectrum, looking at the petals on this place- this rose orchard- there didn’t need to be. However, the colors that encompassed them; the de