Author: marylowd

Nawry the Noodlebeast – Chapter 3: Benter’s Kingdom

by Mary E. Lowd

Originally published in Commander Annie and Other Adventures, November 2023

[Chapter 1  2  3  4  5  6]

“Nawry was wonderstruck by the sights he’d seen — there had been more magnificence in the minutes he’d spent in Benter’s Kingdom than graced a fortnight of traveling along the Rocky Shores.”

For three days, Nawry had swum through empty water over barren sand in deep dark.  He was used to his eyes playing tricks on him.  So, when blackness lifted to blueness, he paid no heed.  Surely, he’d imagined it.

Yet, the water ahead of him continued to grow lighter, paler.  The light was diffuse.  Even once Nawry was sure it must be a sign of the kingdom he was approaching, he couldn’t make anything out of the azure and cerulean blurs ahead.  It didn’t look like a kingdom.  He saw no buildings, no castle.  It looked like a fragmentation in his vision.  His eyes had grown too tired, he thought, and had invented an hallucination.  Then, suddenly, the darkness, the blueness, and the light pulled together, and Nawry understood what he saw. Continue reading “Nawry the Noodlebeast – Chapter 3: Benter’s Kingdom”

Nawry the Noodlebeast – Chapter 2: The Karillow Tree

by Mary E. Lowd

Originally published in Commander Annie and Other Adventures, November 2023

[Chapter 1  2  3  4  5  6]

“The kit-seeds absorbed the basics of language directly from the mother tree while still budding.  The rest of their education came from studying the records studiously scratched by previous generations into the mother tree’s bark.”

Nawry discovered the Karillow tree nestled between the bounteous persimmon and peach trees behind Aumna’s house.  It was a little, silver branched waif, and, unlike all the other trees in the glade, it was winter-naked all winter long.

When Nawry asked Aumna about the incongruous little tree, she told him, “That’s a Karillow tree, and it’s an immigrant to this world too.  The seed for that tree traveled as far as your people did before settling in my garden.” Continue reading “Nawry the Noodlebeast – Chapter 2: The Karillow Tree”

Nawry the Noodlebeast – Chapter 1: The Rocky Shores

by Mary E. Lowd

Originally published in Commander Annie and Other Adventures, November 2023

[Chapter 1  2  3  4  5  6]

“He lived in this world, and he didn’t feel like mourning an old one.  A world he’d never lived in.”

The Noodlebeasts came from the North.  They traveled the Rocky Shores with their baskets of noodle-seeds, eating only as many as they needed to survive.  The rest they saved for their arrival.  It was a long journey along the crooks and crags and crannies.  At night, they found safe nooks, protected from the beating of the ocean waves.  There, they built cozy fires, toasted noodle-seeds for their supper, and sang songs about the world they were traveling toward. Continue reading “Nawry the Noodlebeast – Chapter 1: The Rocky Shores”

The Soul of the Forest

by Mary E. Lowd

Originally published in Commander Annie and Other Adventures, November 2023

“You are not the soul of the forest. I know this forest, and its voice does not sound like yours.”

The trunks of the trees stretched up toward a sky blocked out by clusters and clumps of orange and red autumnal leaves.  The trunks were smooth, black, regular.  Minutus loped between them, slaloming through the woods on long legs, bushy with her burgeoning winter coat.  She was alone.  She’d been alone since her latest litter had grown into full-coated, long-legged adult wolves of their own.  With their own lives. Continue reading “The Soul of the Forest”

When the Universe Listens

by Mary E. Lowd

Originally published in Commander Annie and Other Adventures, November 2023

“The universe didn’t blink in our staring match, it redefined how staring matches work by growing additional eyes.”

The universe is fundamentally composed of irony.  We live in a story, and that story has a genre.  It is a satire.  Let me repeat the most important idea here:  the fundamental building block of the universe, the smallest, indivisible component is irony.  When you take an umbrella, and so it doesn’t rain — dramatic irony.  The viewer, whoever or whatever exists outside the universe, or perhaps simply the personality of the universe itself gets to laugh at you.  It knows; you didn’t.  Dramatic irony. Continue reading “When the Universe Listens”

Rumpel’s Gift

by Mary E. Lowd

Originally published in Commander Annie and Other Adventures, November 2023

“As the blood and teardrops mixed with the sound of Heidi’s urgently whispered cursing, an electric chill filled the room. Heidi looked up to see a man standing in the doorway.”

Each stitch was a nightmare.  Heidi stabbed her fingertip, jamming the pointy needle through the unruly fabric.  Sometimes the fabric bunched up into a stiff, impenetrable clump under the needle’s point.  Other times, the needle sailed through… only for Heidi to find she’d accidently sewn two layers of the ballgown together.  Then she had to rip the stitches out, taking her further from the finish line. Continue reading “Rumpel’s Gift”

Speed Questing

by Mary E. Lowd

Originally published in Commander Annie and Other Adventures, November 2023

“The plesiosaur wasn’t showing up as an attackable creature. She flipped open her adventurer’s log and scanned through it, trying hurriedly to find the right quest text and read it.”

QuestCrusher20 zipped through the zone, zooming from one quest to the next without reading the text.  She didn’t need to.  Just follow the dots on the game map, and like breadcrumbs they led her from a cluster of satyrcorns to kill for their horns to an area strewn with mecha gears that the friendly robots of Robotica needed her to gather.  Quest after quest, she could figure them out on the fly, and it only slowed her down to read the flavor text or listen to the NPCs tell their backstories. Continue reading “Speed Questing”

Huckle’s Puddle

by Mary E. Lowd

Originally published in Commander Annie and Other Adventures, November 2023

“Who are you?” Huckle asked, almost flubbing the words and saying to the imposter-reflection, “Who am I?”

The water splashed under Huckle’s boot in the most satisfying way. Repeated little stomps made smacking sounds and rapid ripples.  Big stomps from running jumps made a slapping sound and spattered the water high enough to annoy his dad.

“Come on,” Terrence said, grabbing his eight-year-old son’s hand and pulling lightly enough to cajole the boy but not hard enough to hurt him.  “If we hurry, we can make it to both Arrin Abbey and the Westle Church before lunch.  Wouldn’t that be fun?”  Terrence spoke with the tightness in his voice that meant he was trying not to sound annoyed.  But he was.  Huckle could tell.  And Huckle decided to push at him. Continue reading “Huckle’s Puddle”