Recent Portfolio Entries

A Hundred Arrows

“They’ll be here come morning, you lot. Enjoy yer last meal, some o’ ye.” Gerald was tired of hearing the captain berate the men. He shouldered his bow, hands sore from practicing all day, and went to retrieve his spent arrows from the practice dummies. Many of Gerald’s shot’s pierced the dummy’s head, but nearly as many were plunged into the straw pile behind the dummies.

“Heh. I got a ‘undred through my dummy’s head. You put as many in the ...

This is an old story of mine; it was published in the speculative fiction journal Zahir in 2008. But it's one of my favorites, so I've decided to share it on MythicScribes. Hope you enjoy! (And if not, don't worry -- I can take it.)

~*~

A chilly mist rises as Jenn and I trod up the mountain path. Sunlight flows in thin ribbons through a thick canopy of ancient oaks, illuminating the understory of spindly bamboo in pale shades of green and gold. We pause at the usual ...

Tags: fairies, forest, science

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Short Stories

Darkum
Episode 1: Nemphars Staff
By: Scott Quarrington 2013


I woke up today battered and bruised on the side of a stone path on a steep slant rather high up an old desolet cold montain with my injured suffering friend and Partner who has seem to almost lose all hope; i thought these restless nights would never end! I only got three or four hours of sleep lastnight but it felt like hours i was asleep, dreaming of what the world could become if we succeed in destroying ...

Tags: darkum one prologue draft

Categories

Short Stories

*Note: This was written by a friend of mine to help him get exposure.



Staring out over the courtyard, he felt strangely calm and peaceful, regardless of the fact that the sun was directly overhead and pelting him with its fierce rays. He sat above the archway that led directly into the main hall where the King held court every second Sunday of the month. It was a precarious place to sit and mostly only birds ever sat there but, he had found as a boy, that he was not ...

The Hit

“P-p-p-please”, cried the kneeling, thin man. The Butcher pulled out his small automatic and shot the victim square between the eyes. He wiped the splatter of blood off his face, then poured acid on the dead body to get rid of it. As the body sizzled out of existence, his mobile phone rang.
“Yes?” he answered calmly. He smiled slightly as the voice on the other end told him that the Mr. Rossini required his presence for an important job. Henry loved the hits that ...