Novel and Short Story Excerpts

Below, you will find an assortment of excerpts from my novels and short stories. Happy reading!

Looking for my interactive fiction samples? Find them here.

Please don't hesitate to reach out for my resume and additional writing samples!

Melaine took a deep breath. Despite her lack of sleep, she could feel the strength of recharged magic beneath her skin. Morning was a treasured time, but knowing every day would descend into weakness, stone by stone, often leeched even morning’s joy from her, more so with each passing year.

Now, the Overlord was her only customer, and if he would uphold his promise to teach her pathways only the most powerful sorcerers could travel, then he would have to leave her with enough reserves to do so. If he kept his promise, most of the entrancing magic within her would remain hers.

“Come in,” murmured a voice. The Overlord’s energy was faint from the other side of the library doors, but Melaine felt a tiny brush of his cool magic against her palm as she pushed. Her eyes widened as she stood in the doorway. She had thought the library would only reside on the ground floor, but she was wrong. She was also wrong about the library being filled with books.

Shelves soared up the walls to the high tower ceiling, covering every stone. They held objects of all kinds and sizes. Glittering figurines and ornate snuff boxes, taxidermies of small creatures, jars with questionable liquids, dried flower bouquets, necklaces strung with beads of teeth and bone, and sundry other items met her eyes, too many to comprehend.

Melaine was startled when she noticed the Overlord seated in a black, high-backed armchair near the center of the room, watching her. He didn’t lurk in shadow as he had during their first meeting in the imposing great hall upon his granite throne. Daylight softened the edges of his hollowed eye sockets and jutting cheekbones, allowing her to see the smooth, handsome cut of his features unadulterated by a guise of skeletal death. He looked less decrepit, closer to his true age of not-quite-forty, but dark circles still pooled under his blue eyes. Chapped fissures marred his shapely lips, and his black hair still hung in strings over his shoulders.

“Good morning, my lord,” she said, not sure if she should kneel or curtsy—she had never curtsied in her life—or if he expected her to stand and wait for instruction. Should she even have spoken first? Even the simple phrase she had used sounded awkward. Deferential, polite niceties were not something people in Stakeside used very often.

The Overlord lifted a single finger, motioning at a chair across from him. Melaine hesitated but then strode to the table and settled herself on the chair’s cushioned edge.

“Are you adjusting to your quarters?” he asked. Melaine crinkled her brow. His concerned tone was subtle but seemed to acknowledge the difficulties she faced being surrounded by such overwhelming luxury all at once.

“They’re…comfortable. It’s difficult to sleep in a new place,” she said, hoping that would explain some of her clumsy social behavior.

“I trust you’ll rest better tonight,” he responded. She thought she heard a trace of envy in his voice.

“Or maybe this castle provokes nightmares,” she said, probably with more cheek than she should have. The Overlord had lived here for five years, and he looked as sleepless as she felt.

He expelled a short, dry laugh. “You’ll need to learn to live with them, Melaine.” His inhale rattled. “You’re too young and useful to go mad.”

“Then you might call off your stone guard outside my bedchamber,” she said. “That might make me rest easier.”

The man’s blue eyes flashed. “You shouldn’t go where you’re not expected. This stronghold is ancient. It holds secrets. I’ve cracked most of them…and created some of my own. I cannot guarantee your safety, but you seem smart enough to survive.”

Melaine quieted. There was no mistaking the warning in his tone. She had crossed a line.

“Aye, my lord,” she said, suppressing her fluttering nerves. “I mean, yes. Yes, my lord.”

“Do you understand the risk you took in coming here, Melaine Stonegirl?”

“I wanted to be more than a stonegirl, my lord,” Melaine said. She swallowed her temper, soothing her tight jaw. After a pause, she said, “I need to be more than that.”

He sighed as if she was trying his patience. “You already are, Melaine.” The sincerity in his voice washed Melaine’s residual anger away. He spoke with a commanding authority that was effortless after years of ruling Centara and all of Dramore. It felt like he was making an official decree that she was, in truth, more than a stonegirl from the streets—that she could become more under his tutelage.

He leaned forward with effort and rested his weight on his elbows, folding his hands together upon the table.

“Overseer Scroupe said you wish to become a Follower.”

Melaine’s heart jumped. She sat straighter. “Yes, my lord.”

“Do you know where my Followers are now?”

“In your palace,” Melaine answered, sounding wistful. “Protecting Centara.”

“Guarding halls filled with nothing but vying courtiers and ambitious overseers,” he said, his voice flat. “Standing in doorways listening to vapid discussions of modern politicians. They understand that peace is better than war and are proud of their current duties, but they are far from satisfied. Those who aren’t dead or too old to function, that is.”

Melaine frowned. To hear the Overlord speak of his own Followers that way, of the politicians and overseers that way, was…she didn’t know how she felt about it other than surprised.

“Is that why you left?” she asked. “Is that why you’ve decided to live here these past five years?”

The Overlord paused as if considering a reply, but he looked aside instead, his face disinterested.

“I have no need for more Followers,” he said. “You were a mere child during the war, and you still glorify it like one.”

His words stung her pride like a poisonous dart the tribal Daksuns were said to shoot at wanderers of the Wilds in stories. Stories. Was that what she’d been looking up to all this time? Useless fables of exaggerated war heroes?

“Then what am I supposed to do with all that you teach me?” she asked, unable to hide the doubt in her voice that he may have decided not to teach her after all.

He was silent a moment.

“Let’s see how much you can learn first,” he said, the spark fading from his eyes as his shoulders sagged. “I’ll teach you the basics, and then I’ll move onward, pass on as much as I can to you.”

Melaine frowned as she ran a finger along the bottom edge of a book on the desk. The Overlord spoke like an old man discussing a will, knowing he had little time left. But the Overlord was still a young man. And Melaine couldn’t help but think, he was supposed to be powerful.

“I’m going to need my strength for that,” he said.

Melaine took a breath, her chest tightening. She understood what he wanted, but that didn’t mean she had to like it.

She reluctantly slipped her lace glove from her right hand. She set it neatly in her lap and started massaging her palms, working her humming magic to the surface. The warmth of her marrow burned through her bones and shot into her veins. She opened her palm, paralleling the high, pointed ceiling of the tower.

The warm, soothing magic abandoned her veins and left them frozen, its energy coalescing into a hard stone that started to rise from the skin of her palm. Her palm burned and prickled with pain as she pushed the lodestone from her body and cupped it between her hands. It glowed purple, swirling with magic until it deepened to a nearly black sheen.

She sighed with minute despair and held the lodestone in offering to the man across the table.

He reached out and took it in silence. He closed his eyes as if merely touching the lodestone was intoxicating and then brought it to his lips. He inhaled Melaine’s forfeited magic and, for a second’s time, she hated him for it.

But her hatred was limited by the knowledge that the Overlord wasn’t some crude buyer on the street who needed magic to commit a crime or stay awake long enough to enjoy some hedonistic activity or even a simple hard day’s work.

Her resentment withered further when she saw the immediate change her magic had upon the Overlord. When the stone dissipated into dust, he sat straighter, and his eyes gleamed brighter. Color returned to his cheeks and hands. He was a coiled spring, full of kinetic energy, waiting for a reason to unleash the powerful magic running through him.

Melaine immediately regretted her bouts of outspoken disrespect. She ordered herself to never forget who this man was and what he was capable of, no matter how weak he looked.

“True power comes from resourcefulness,” he said. His voice was still hoarse from disuse, but his breaths rattled less and his tone poured confidence. “If you have that, you can scrape up any magic around you, even if your bones are tapped, and find that you have more power than you think—more power than anyone else. You’ve already proven you’re resourceful, or you wouldn’t be here.”

“Aye, my lord,” Melaine agreed, her chin lifting a little with pride. She could feel her remaining magic humming within her bones as she prepared herself for the intriguing lesson to come. She could keep this magic. The Overlord had his lodestone for the day, and he hadn’t asked for more. For once, she could look forward to a day in which the rest of her magic was hers.

Inquieto stepped to the side, his lips pressed thin.

“Is this where . . . ?” I asked.

He nodded.

“How can you be sure this will work?”

“I’m not the only one on your side,” he said. He touched my face, making me jump. I held still when I realized he was only unpeeling my protective sun mask from my eyes. He lowered the linen shawl from my hair, letting it pool around my shoulders. His dark eyes traced my features for a moment, and instead of looking aside, I found myself doing the same to his foreign face.

“It will be all right,” he whispered.

“Tell me that when I’m on a ship home,” I said, though my stomach flipped at the notion of space travel. I turned to the door. Whatever was on the other side had to be better than the fucking zoo. That’s what I tried to convince myself as Inquieto pressed his hand against the door’s surface.

The door dissolved into swirling vapor, revealing an elegant, sepia-hued tableau, a striking difference from the plain gray hallways. It appeared that we were on the top floor of a domed structure aboveground, an exact mirror to the hanging bowl-shaped building underground. The entire structure was a sphere, separated in two halves by the cavern’s rocky ceiling and the ground above.

Sunshine filtered through narrow, spear-point crystal windows that curved from the polished stone floor to the domed ceiling, tinted enough to assuage my sensitive eyes. The sepia walls were carved with countless small symbols that looked like writing, and a large, glossy obsidian symbol dominated one wall. It was the same symbol I’d seen hanging over the construction site outside—a long, horizontal line topping the bottom half of a circle, not unlike the bowl-shaped underground half of this very building.

Our door was small, but a much larger door of gem-cut obsidian under a high stone arch loomed across the round room. No doubt it was the main entrance for anyone except a paz prisoner, perhaps, because the entire space had the feeling of an elaborate courtroom.

Instead of one judge, ten paz sat behind simple obsidian desks arranged in a circle, though an eleventh desk was vacant. Each person looked official and important in matching cream-colored robes with dark brown strips of fabric running down their chests. The only differences in their ensembles were small symbols on the center of each of their robe collars. I glanced at Inquieto. His robe also had a symbol on its collar, made of the same kind of supple, satin-like fabric that trimmed my robe’s hem. His symbol was a silver diamond with three lines inside that reached up from the bottom like tree branches. I grazed my collar with my fingertip and felt the same symbol on mine. In retrospect, I realized that every paz’s robes I had seen so far had a symbol on their collars, of all different colors and shapes.

We lingered outside the doorway, unnoticed yet. All attention was on a woman standing in the center of the circle. A white, baseball-sized sphere hovered around the room like a drone, a pinpoint blue light on its surface aimed her way. I suspected it was some kind of recording device, which made my stomach squirm.

“You may remember that prior to my seat on the High Council, I was employed as an artist,” the woman in the circle said.

She looked familiar somehow, but I couldn’t put my finger on why. Her white skin sparkled like snow in the filtered sunlight of the room, her golden patterns blossomed like orchid petals. She was tall and stood with poise that seemed too perfect, like she’d had to practice it in years of etiquette classes. Her face was heart-shaped, as well as her glimmering golden shoulder ridges, adding to her graceful beauty. Her keen eyes, although pleasantly round in the centers, sharpened into abrupt, narrow points at each corner.

“Yes, we are quite aware of your past credentials, Counselor Reúnen,” said a man, seated with his back to me. Though I couldn’t see his face, his voice held a sneer.

The woman, Counselor Reúnen, gave him a stiff nod, but didn’t visibly return his disdain.

A different man, thin-faced and elderly, interjected, “Counselor Reúnen, you are responsible for much of the artwork at the Curio Life Museum, are you not?”

My chest hollowed.

“Yes, Counselor Guían,” Counselor Reúnen said. “I created much of the artwork within both curio museums in Raíz, as well as the curio pods, in the past fifteen years. The pod that brought Curio 0924 to Paz showed evidence that it was damaged upon its landing on Planet 0916. Its log shows that several scans for appropriate lifeforms were made, but its internal opening mechanism was broken. Therefore, the door must have been opened from the outside.”

“Your work is very intricate,” Guían said. “I have visited the museums on a few occasions, and what detail!” He leaned forward. “There is a code to open each pod embedded into your artwork, yes? A mechanism too sophisticated for an animal to perform?”

The woman smiled. “Yes, Counselor.”

“How, then, was it opened?”

“As we saw from the visual recordings that Citizen Inquieto Reúnen supplied, Curio 0924 has paz-like hands,” she explained. “Outlines of hands are hidden within the art, and they must be touched in a precise order to open the pod. Curio 0924 could have placed her hands on the appropriate sectors to open it. The pod’s scanning program would then have been activated, and at least her fellow curio, Curio 0033, was deemed a beneficial specimen to collect. Whether 0924 was processed correctly, being a potential species of higher intelligence, is up to us.”

“You are telling me that this creature,” said the critical man with his back to us, “used its crude imitation of our hands,” he lifted one of his four-knuckled fingers, “to decipher the exact order of your code?”

“I am, Counselor Fortalecen,” she answered.

“We don’t know how long the curio took to open the pod,” said a woman with cheekbones that could sharpen stone. “It could have been banging on the surface for days before it struck upon the proper sequence by accident.”

I huffed air through my nose and clenched my fist. Inquieto had warned me to hold my tongue till he said otherwise, but it was getting difficult. He must have noticed my tension because he chose that moment to guide me into the room.

All eleven aliens jolted and shot their eyes to me as if I’d shouted my arrival and run at them full speed. Then they all took a deep breath, eerily synchronized, and their expressions began to vary from their joint surprise, though remained subtler than I was used to seeing with humans. I might have had trouble reading them if I wasn’t on such high alert, but my adrenaline spurred me to pick up every little cue.

The angular-faced woman tittered with the derisive mutter, “Clothes.” Others appraised me with far more serious expressions of concern. Many darted their eyes from Inquieto to me and back again as if he was the only thing keeping me from attacking them. I was lucky they didn’t demand I be restrained or stunned.

I glanced at the man who’d had his back to us, Counselor Fortalecen, as we passed. He stared at me with such hard black eyes, I had to look away, but not before I saw his lips move and heard the softest utterance.

“It is an aberration.”

“Citizen Reúnen, welcome,” said Counselor Reúnen with a polite nod to Inquieto, though her eyes sparkled with what appeared to be deeper friendship. Her robe collar bore the same silver diamond symbol as his.

Reúnen. If surnames worked the same way as in my cultures, then it seemed Inquieto and Counselor Reúnen might be related.

“Thank you, Counselor,” Inquieto said, locking eyes with her for a brief moment when we reached the center of the circle. The woman’s smile turned sweeter and more assuring. She stepped aside.

“You were aware of his coming?” said Fortalecen; his voice held an underlying hiss. This time, I gave him a good once-over. His hard eyes were deep-set, his forehead slightly sloped back, with a square jaw that he held high. Even sitting, I could tell he was tall. His shoulders were smooth and broad, with long arms that ended in long-fingered hands, which he linked with poise on his desk. The patterns on his skin were a dark, distinctive bronze and followed each line of his elegant bone structure—his cheekbones and jaw, the bridge of his nose, his collarbones—as if his body had no tolerance for error. His hands looked like those of a bronze skeleton.

I was struck by how much younger he looked compared to every counselor aside from Counselor Reúnen, who, like him, couldn’t have been more than forty by human standards.

“This is unexpected, Counselor Reúnen,” agreed a new woman with fine, dignified wrinkles on her face who sat directly facing me. Her golden patterns graced her skin like interwoven fleurs-de-lis. Her voice was rich and soothing, yet held unquestionable authority.

“I believe this entire situation is unexpected, Counselors,” answered Counselor Reúnen. She gave Inquieto an encouraging nod, though her eyes only flicked to me in one nervous twitch. “Perhaps you can give your additional evidence now, Inquieto?” she said softly.

“Yes, Prístina,” he whispered, sounding grateful for her presence, and then turned to the rest of the council. Counselor Prístina Reúnen strode with light, smooth steps to the single empty desk and sat down. The white hovering sphere aimed its little blue light at us, recording, no doubt. I tried to avoid looking at it.

“Counselor Levantan,” Inquieto said with a small bow of his head to the wrinkled woman. “Counselors.” He nodded to the circle as a whole.

“Extraordinary,” said Counselor Guían with a smile. “We can see why she is such a popular curio. The mimicry of the paz form—”

“Is an affront to our species, Counselor Guían,” Fortalecen said. I analyzed him with a deep frown. Other aliens had made it clear how strange I was in their eyes, but their tones and expressions had been of either curiosity or mockery. This man’s tone was pure, calculated disgust.

“You have given us much to address, Citizen Reúnen,” Fortalecen continued. “We have viewed the visual recordings and annotated assessment you submitted. We have no reason to agree with your unsupported logic that Curio 0924 is a sub-level intelligent species, and—”

“She is a human, Counselor Fortalecen,” Inquieto boldly interrupted. Fortalecen narrowed his eyes. “She is a human from a planet she calls Earth, where humans are the dominant intelligent species much like paz are on our planet. She has a name.” His voice dropped to a low key of defiance. “May I present Carmen O’Dwyer to the High Council?”

The angular-faced woman who had scoffed at my clothing did so again. The rest of the counselors shifted with uncomfortable frowns.

“I don’t know which subject is more appalling,” Fortalecen said. “Your unspeakable belief that this creature is of any notable intelligence, or your unfathomable choice to bring this dangerous beast here, without permission, unrestrained—”

“I am not an animal!” I said, standing tall and facing them down. The entire council froze into silence.

“As you can see, Carmen can speak for herself,” Inquieto said, though his voice shook a little as he eyed the counselors. “She is using a specialized translation device.”

I stole a glance at Fortalecen and almost wished I hadn’t. A vacant, haunted hole opened in his eyes for a half second, so fast I might have imagined it, before his face hardened into a cold mask.

“This technology is clearly a ruse,” Fortalecen said, swiftest to recover, “and to release this creature, a subversive offense—”

“This is an unprecedented situation,” said Prístina, sending a subtle glare to Fortalecen. “Inquieto has performed no deviances.”

“We must speak as a council,” said Counselor Levantan, extending her hands wide in a pacifying gesture. “We have many conditions to consider. A translator is . . . surprising. But its confiscation would directly affect our ability to judge this case. However, no matter the circumstances, your chosen route was . . . disappointing, Citizen Reúnen. Tell me, why did you go through such lengths to avoid the proper, lawful channels?”

“I had no reason to believe the proper channels would lead to Carmen’s release,” Inquieto said. His voice was controlled, but his contempt was obvious and sounded personal.

Levantan paused.

“Such disrespect,” said a pudgy man who hadn’t spoken before. He squinted his small beetle eyes at Inquieto.

“It is time for us to witness more for ourselves,” Levantan said. “Curio 0924, which I will say for the record.” She eyed her peers with emphasis before turning to me. “Carmen.” My cheeks flushed with hope. “My name is Memoria Levantan. We know you must be confused, but we are here to discuss your future. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”

My whole body felt like one big stutter before I could reply.

“Yes,” I said. Breaths of awe, murmurs, and grumbles swept around the circle. “I understand everything. I understand that you took me from my home.”

I wanted to say more, to unleash the storm raging inside me, but I kept up a wall and only said what mattered most.

“Will you send me back?”

Some counselors exchanged apprehensive grimaces; others were immobilized as if caught in a time loop of incredulous dismay.

“This is a delicate situation,” said the pudgy man, but his small eyes weren’t as squinty as before. He sounded petrified.

“Sending her back would risk further interaction with her . . . kind,” said a woman with heavy-lidded eyes. Her low voice shook like she was deeply afraid.

“Counselors,” Fortalecen said, his voice as soft and foreboding as a dying man’s pulse. “It was only a matter of time until some travesty like this occurred. I needn’t remind you that my grandfather strove against the movement to create the dangerous Curio Project eighty years ago, and I’ve tried to persuade you of its extreme flaws since. But there were others of his generation who insisted that exploration was more important than civil safety.

“We have no reason to believe that this creature is sapient. Rudimentary speech and opening an entrapment pod by pure chance are not enough evidence. However, enough of the public has seen its paz-like body type for there to be . . . talk. Given the current political climate . . .” He paused. “The matter is exhuming topics that need not be discussed. Even discussions that are too lurid to speak of regarding another intelligent species . . .”

Visible shudders and frowns of consternation passed around the circle. Whatever third species he was talking about, his mention of it had an impact that he must have been counting on.

“Sending it back could appear to be a dangerous confirmation of people’s misled suspicions,” he continued. “It belongs in containment for the good of our people.”

“Returning her to her home planet is of improbable success, regardless of our considerations,” said another counselor, a woman with golden patterns that swirled like whirlpools. “Isn’t it, Citizen Reúnen?”

I frowned at Inquieto. He kept his eyes on the council.

“I believe it is possible, Counselor Invierten,” he said, “if we address the problem with enough resources.”

“Problem?” I said. “What’s the problem?”

Inquieto turned to me, his face lined with deep regret. “I should have told you before. Your pod was—”

“Address the council, Citizen Reúnen,” said Fortalecen. “We cannot hear you.”

Inquieto looked away from me. His jaw tightened like he was clenching his teeth to the point of cracking them. Prístina leaned on her desk like she was about to rise from her chair.

“There’s no need for that, Dignidad,” Counselor Levantan said softly, but she looked at Inquieto with a sympathetic frown. Prístina eased back, but looked perturbed.

“Carmen’s pod suffered more damage than simply being unable to open on its own,” Inquieto said in a high volume aimed straight at Fortalecen before he lowered his voice to a more appropriate level. “I also discovered that the coordinates recorded for her home planet were incorrect. Planet 0916 appears habitable for some form of life, yes, but there is no possibility that either Carmen or Smita—Curio 0033—could have survived under Planet 0916’s conditions. The atmosphere would make it impossible for them to breathe, and the tectonic plates and volcanic activity are too unstable to harbor advanced life at this stage of the planet’s evolution. In addition, Planet 0916’s rotation and revolution do not match the assessment the procurer ship made in its physical approach to Carmen’s planet. When the damaged pod linked to the ship’s system, it must have impaired the information. It is obvious that the coordinates in the system are wrong.”

He met my eyes. “I am sorry, Carmen. We don’t know where your planet—your Earth—is.”

My chest squeezed in sudden harsh pain. Inquieto looked back at the council.

“But we will find out,” he said.

My mind spiraled into a tornado of images from the Hubble telescope, documentaries, and my own imaginings of galaxies and stars and the vast, empty void of space, followed by the single photo of that “pale-blue dot” captured from the outer fringes of our solar system by Voyager 1 when the space probe was four billion miles from Earth. How far away was I now? From where I stood, would I see no dot at all?

My hands started to shake. I wasn’t sure if my physical body or my swimming brain was causing my black-spotted vision, but I felt an overwhelming need to sit down. Inquieto must have noticed. He took my arm and braced me upright.

“Counselor Reúnen,” said Counselor Invierten, turning to Prístina, “is it possible to find 0924 and 0033’s planet in the curio database?”

“Yes, Counselor.” Prístina sat straighter and spoke with confidence, almost like she had rehearsed this conversation. “We have a vast collection of possible inhabitable planets for procurement purposes, but it would take at least a season to sift through all the data to find one that would match this species.”

“And since it’s clear the processing program is less than effective, paz eyes would be necessary,” criticized the angular-faced woman. “That would take even longer, and who do you suggest we divert from their usual tasks to perform such an exorbitant endeavor?”

“We have a host of knowledgeable experts in this city,” Levantan said, “and none of us doubt paz ingenuity.” I watched her assuring face and felt a desperate pique of hope.

“Yes, but Counselor Invierten is correct,” said the pig-faced man. “Paz time and resources would be better spent elsewhere. Especially considering the timing of this problem.”

“I agree; it’s not worth the effort,” Fortalecen said. “Did you not see the depraved behavior it displayed in the recordings? It is an animal, Counselors. It has shown destructive and violent behavior.”

“Stop!” I said. The counselors all looked at me, stiffening in their chairs.

“Please.” I forced my voice’s volume to lower. “Please. You took me from my home and put me in a zoo.” I could tell that the last word came out in English when my mouth matched the phonetics. I flinched in frustration. “You imprisoned me. You degraded me. How was I supposed to react?”

“No civilized species would react how you did,” Fortalecen bit out.

“We were wrong to bring her here,” Inquieto said, his voice shaky, but forceful. His grip on my arm tightened as if Fortalecen might reach over his desk and snatch me away. The entire room felt like it could explode at any moment. “Carmen is an intelligent species. Her differences do not make her less of a person. She deserves to be treated like one. We had the technology to find her planet and procure her; we should have no trouble in using that same technology to send her home if given sufficient time and a team of experts.”

Guilt lined the faces around the circle. It was the first hint of anything close to compassion I had seen from them.

“Counselors,” said Levantan in a tone that would accept no interruption. Yet instead of speaking, she extended her hands to Counselors Guían and Invierten on either side of her. They each clasped their hands around her forearms, and she wrapped her fingers around their forearms in turn. Guían and Invierten then both extended their free hands toward the counselors next in line. Soon, all eleven council members were linked arm in arm.

They all looked down in silence as if praying.

“What are they doing?” I mouthed to Inquieto. He took a slow breath, wearing a pensive frown.

“Wait,” he whispered.

I watched the sunlight and shadows creep across Counselor Levantan’s bowed head. My heartbeat ticked faster the longer we waited, but it didn’t speed up the passing seconds’ relentless march. I was on the verge of bolting to find some other solution that I might have more control over when the counselors each released one another’s forearms and placed their hands upon their desks.

“Citizen Reúnen,” said Counselor Levantan, “we agree to delegate a team to search for the accurate coordinates for the home planet of Curios 0924 and 0033. For Citizen Reúnen’s benefit, would all counselors who approved this decision raise their hands?”

One by one, all the counselors raised their hands, save one. I eyed Fortalecen, and his cold eyes met mine. I believed he thought I would look away; he certainly looked irritated when I didn’t. His hands stayed locked together on his desk.

Inquieto let out a quiet sigh of relief. Counselor Levantan’s expression softened.

“Carmen, we offer a profound apology for our actions against you. Had we known you were of any level of sapient intelligence, we would never have brought you here and taken your freedom. Regardless of the delicacy of this situation, we can all agree,” she eyed her fellow counselors, “that we have made a grave mistake. One which we will remedy.”

A lump tightened my throat as tears stung my eyes. “I don’t need an apology,” I said, unable to sweeten the bitterness in my tone. “I need to be home.”

Levantan gave a solemn nod, her wrinkles deepening for a moment before she smoothed her features with a refreshing breath.

“And the dog,” I said.

“What?” she asked, looking to Inquieto.

“Curio 0033,” he said. “She calls it a dog. They are symbiotes, I believe. I placed them together for that reason.”

“Thought you were trying to prove I’m not an animal, Inquieto,” I muttered. He glanced at me, his eyebrows crinkling.

“And the dog, Carmen,” Levantan said. I couldn’t ignore the fresh tone of condescension in her voice. Symbiotes. As if I weren’t capable of a true emotional bond.

“Where will we intern her until we find the coordinates?” the heavy-lidded woman asked. “The therapeutic center or the museum?”

I opened my mouth, but Inquieto spoke first, his voice low and simmering. “Would you place an innocent paz in a therapeutic center or a curio exhibit?”

The woman scoffed, and several others rumbled in their throats at the notion that I could be comparable to a paz.

“Inquieto,” Levantan said, her tone suddenly parental, but then corrected herself. “Citizen Reúnen, you are one of the leading experts of your unique vocation. Your observations of Carmen’s behavior and analyses of her motives are substantiated by your education and experience in curio-specific behavior. No one on this council can ignore the validity of your testimony. As such, you are more suited than anyone to maintain Carmen’s good behavior.”

“My council members,” said Counselor Fortalecen as his shadowed eyes sliced the room, “There is no question that this creature needs to be contained and out of public view.”

“She doesn’t need to be in a museum or therapeutic center to be kept out of the public’s eyes,” said Guían, who looked at me with a cocked head and a smile in his eyes. “Citizen Reúnen, you reside with Counselor Reúnen, do you not?”

“Inquieto and I would be happy to have Carmen stay in our home,” Prístina said. “We will take full responsibility for her.”

“Then I propose that Carmen stays in Citizen Reúnen’s care until we have made more formal progress in assessing her case,” said Guían.

“Those who disagree with the proposal?” asked the angular-faced woman. She, the pig-faced man, the woman with heavy eyelids, and, of course, Fortalecen, raised their hands.

“The Council approves,” stated Levantan, eliciting nods from the seven who had implicitly voted in my favor.

“I thank the council,” said Inquieto, his sentence a puff of relief.

“Take her home, Citizen,” said Memoria Levantan. “Know that you are to be held personally responsible for her behavior on Paz. Her actions are your actions. Do you understand? We shall contact you when we decide what further action to take on this matter.”

“I understand,” he said. “I look forward to your words.”

They nodded as one.

I spun around when two paz in matching white robes walked through the large ornate door across the room. They stood at attention and looked at the council as if they’d been called in, though I hadn’t seen or heard anyone do so.

“Citizen Sirven,” Fortalecen said, “escort Citizen Reúnen and his . . . charge . . . to the dock.”

“It’s all right, Carmen,” Inquieto said, though his shoulder twitched. “They’re disciplinarians. They’re here to help.”

I tensed as the white-robed man and woman walked closer with authoritative strides. I gathered from the name and uniform they must be akin to police officers.

“Come with us,” said the man, Citizen Sirven. His forehead was wrinkled with precisely three straight lines as if they’d been chiseled there by a constant weathering of stern warnings and hard decisions. He looked at me with sharp suspicion, but his fellow disciplinarian seemed to want to look everywhere but at me.

Inquieto released my arm, and somehow I found the power to walk with him. The eyes of the High Council followed me as we exited the room. Though their discussion of resources had been maddeningly calculative, both sympathy and fear seemed to have seeded their final decision. I wondered what emotion would take root in them and thrive. They were both there, waiting to be watered.

"Arise, Great Hunter," a thunderous voice echoed through the hunter's head. "Your challenge is set."

"A challenge?" the hunter said, shaking off the haze of sleep. His night in the forest had been disturbed by rustling leaves in the dark and the hoot of an owl as it swooped low through the trees. Sleep had been too long in arriving, and he wished he could lie down once more.

"Hunter," the voice boomed again. "Arise!"

The hunter shot up from his bedroll and gasped at the sight of an enormous, mighty stag standing amongst the trees. His antlers soared to the heavens, seeming to entwine with the tree limbs themselves as if he were an innate part of the forest.

"A challenge, indeed," the hunter said with a determined smile. His belly was full from his successful hunt the day before, and yet still, he reached for his bow and found his feet.

The stag did not move. He stared at the hunter with large, round eyes that held a depth no animal's should.

The hunter shrugged off the weight of foreboding that tried to settle upon his shoulders and shouldered his quiver of arrows instead.

"I accept your challenge," he replied.

The stag bolted.

The hunter gave chase. He dashed through the woods, leaping from rock to earth, over roots and through brambles, all in pursuit of the magnificent beast. So bold, was he, that he flew through the trees as if racing the wind. But the stag was swifter at every turn. Leaves whirled around his hooves, and his elaborate antlers swept aside tree bows as he passed.

The hunter's chest felt tight around his pounding heart, each breath more belabored than the last. He almost gave in to his exhaustion and defeat, but the stag broke into a clearing and stopped.

With a thrill in his heart, the hunter stopped at the edge of the brilliant meadow with sunshine pouring from the open sky. The stag stood upon a boulder in a beam of sunlight, glowing and vibrant with life. He stared down at the hunter, the challenge still fervent in his deep brown eyes.

The hunter slowly drew an arrow from his quiver and knocked it to his bow. He let out a slow breath, ignoring the thump of uncertainty in his chest. He had not become a hunter of such skill and renown by backing down when his prey was finally in his grasp. He aimed his arrow straight at the stag's heart.

"A challenge no more," he whispered. He loosed his arrow.

The arrow flew true, straight to the heart of the magnificent creature. Yet when it hit, a flash of light exploded from its tip and blinded the hunter for a second's time. When he looked up again, he fell to his knees.

A child stood where the stag had once been. The young boy's eyes were closed, and for a terrible moment, the hunter thought he had killed him with his skillfully aimed arrow. But the boy opened his eyes and smiled.

"Arise, Great Hunter," the boy said in a gentle echo of the stag's challenge. He walked with light, slow steps toward the hunter and offered him his hand. In awe, the hunter took it and stood on wavering legs.

"Why?" the hunter asked.

"A life is a life, is it not?" the boy replied. "You would take the stag's life for sport, yet you would regret taking mine. Do you see your error?"

The hunter nodded. "I do. I do not deserve your kindness, but thank you for teaching me. But what are you, child? Animal or human?"

The boy smiled. "I am a lesson, nothing more. Take heed of this moment and remember the preciousness of life."

The boy disappeared into the sunlight. The hunter smiled. He left the forest that day empty-handed, yet fulfilled.

More writing samples available upon request.

Find more of my published works on my Amazon Author Page