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Short Stories


Moonshot

"I'm going to fly to Kreludor on my own two wings," Tresapeake said, and there didn't exist a word or phrase in the Neopedia that could dissuade her.

by goldmoon_
Just a Bookish Aisha

The young Blue Aisha sat down at a table stacked high with tattered-looking books. She opened Book Repair 101 to the first page, but no sooner had she done so when the door to the library burst open and King Hagan strode in.

by millyandsugar
Faerie Origins: The Dung Faerie

The faerie she was speaking to was gazing out in the opposite direction, facing the many acres that stretched out before her bewildered eyes.

by butterflybandage
 
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"Moonshot" by goldmoon_
"I'm going to fly to Kreludor on my own two wings," Tresapeake said, and there didn't exist a word or phrase in the Neopedia that could dissuade her. There was the small issue of not having natural wings, as a Mutant Lutari, but the shops and their keepers had invented attachable wings and so she figured she might start there. “Yes, we have plenty of wings," the first shopkeeper, a dainty Ixi, gushed while parading Tres down a stuffed aisle. “Chocolate Wings and Cherry Blossom Wings and Candelabra Wings and—" “Beautiful," Tres said, blinking at a pair of wooden wings somehow perpetually on fire. “Which are the best for flight?" The shopkeeper trilled a worried tone. “Flight? As in flying? Oh goodness, well, a young lad recently traded in these Ingenious Flying Contraption Wings, and by the name, it does sound like they would be ideal to take to the skies!" Tres examined the proffered invention, testing the tautness of the canvas and the integrity of the wooden beams. With a beaming smile, she handed over the requisite payment, and out she went with only a little difficult in getting her new wings through the door. - - - - - Tuesday was the day. Her best friends, Motley and Nintuck, peeped out from behind a nearby rock on the long, grassy plain. “I question the wisdom of your endeavor," the bookish Nintuck protested, adjusting her Ogrin suspenders and patting at her gray hair. “I propose that we take to mathematics and digest the possibilities of both success and failure." Motley, a Magma Nimmo, was of a different mind. “Shh," Tres could hear the half-attempt at a whisper. “This is going to go so wonderfully terrible!" Tres clinched another buckle and leaned from side to side, adjusting to the weight of the wings. She'd spent the last several days trying the wings on, sanding down rough edges, and reining in unruly spokes. She squinted down the path at the edge of the knoll, below which the hill dipped down about five or six feet, and took a deep breath. “I'm doing it!" she informed the pair behind the rock, and with the same gumption she'd assembled at the beginning of this endeavor, she sprang forward.




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