Horror to Fantasy

Probably not, what you are thinking, I have delved back into fantasy once again. Frankly, this is the genre I got my script writing start in, based on a short I wrote. Like most things however, it never made it off the cutting room floor.  

I have always loved the fantasy genre. There is so much one can do in such a genre. The imagination can run wild as in a fantastical world where anything is possible. Sure, you can let your imagination go in other genres but you are restricted to reasonable and scientifically plausible. Fantasy however, there are no boundaries (at least in my opinion).

As I begin, like with my muse being finicky as she is, I do wonder where it will all end up.

~

Ache smiled his best toothy grin.  It was in fact a dismal crooked grin but a grin nonetheless.  He giggled mildly as he stared up at a restless Allure.  She towered over him, as he pressed himself as far down on the foliage as possible, without drowning in it. 

“Well, my Queen it’s like this…”

Allure puffed up; her rejection shot from her mouth sending Ache another inch or two into the foliage.  “Don’t you dare start with me Ache.”

She knew the words that were about to flow would be quibbling.  Ache always began his quibbling with “Well, my Queen it’s like this…” Allure was in no mood for a would be jester.

Ache drew a breath, “caught” he thought.  Now what do I do?  How is it that I always get myself in this position?  Ache argued with himself there within the foliage as Allure watched on in complete agitation, awaiting the elfin to respond.

Continuing his internal strife Ache convinced himself that it wasn’t his fault at all.  “My queen, it is not I you should be angry with, rather that useless necromancer of yours.”  He knelt up straight as he pushed his confident chest forward.

Allure delivered a swift kick into Ache’s proud chest.” You do not decide who I should blame, slave.”

“Yes, my queen.”  The agreement squeaked out painfully from Ache’s aching chest.

“Fetch me more.  I want more.”

“My queen, they only perish and to be open with you, when they die they smell very bad.  Worse then what they do living.”  Ache pinched his nose and made a sour face.

“More,” Allure raised her hand to Ache whom coward in the foliage.

“As you wish, to the Southern Crossing I go.  Yes, to the Southern Crossing.” Ache smiled his best toothy grin.

~

Like I said, I love the genre (never claimed to be good at it). The flow, the grandeur can be so epic. Just having fun with an idea and a few character developments in the above – hopefully it will become a tale, someday.