A fantasy short story about war and regret by David Tombale: The Timekeeper's Story

The Timekeeper’s Story

The Timekeeper slowly stroked the boy’s blue black hair from his face and felt the slick sweat on his brow. The boy’s face was smudged with white ash, probably from the fires that still burned on.

The Timekeeper withdrew from the body on the table, noting sadly the holes in the boy’s sackcloth shoes and the rags that still covered his small frame. He walked to the window allowing the searing heat of the flames that were consuming the refugees’ newly made huts to scorch his skin. The guard on the tower turned his head to see the old master standing on the balcony, his short white hair blowing in a breeze that did little more than feed the inferno.

The Timekeeper sighed as he looked down on the battle. The trolls they’d grown in their labs so long ago were massed like a huge tidal wave breaking against the fortress’s massive stone walls but it would only be matter of time before they came in. All up and down the wall the human defenders ran barely keeping a hold of their large blasters while the trolls’ tank shells fell between them flinging some onto the cobbles or over the side into the waiting arms of their enemies.

The Timekeeper glanced down at his hands and thought sadly of a time when they’d held the first of the troll children. It had been such a wonderful time then, when humanity had stood at the peak of its powers, creating new life out of the myths of their fathers and now hearing those creatures howling their fury at the walls of the last human city in the world he realized all his work had been for nothing.

Unfortunately he could not stop. The defenders on the wall needed reinforcements and they needed what he could do for them. The Timekeeper turned his back on the war that had been raging on for over seventy years and when the guard on the tower turned his head to watch the old man return inside he could only wonder at how frail he appeared.

The Timekeeper returned to the boy’s side and laid his hands over his body allowing the white energy that still kept his aged heart beating to emerge. Its glow spread over the boy’s arms and legs seeking out his wounds and sealing them closed. Lastly the white energy restarted his heart and refilled the air in his lungs causing his eyes to spring open. The Timekeeper stood back as the boy rolled off the table and cast his eyes over the room. He soon found his blaster and ignoring the Timekeeper walked over to the corner and picked it up as carefully as another man would pick up a child.

There was an eagerness in the boy’s features as he looked over his weapon that pained the Timekeeper greatly but he reflected that it was far too late for regrets. The boy turned around stiffly and stood to attention his blaster on his right shoulder.

‘What are your orders sir?’ the boy asked him.

The Timekeeper glanced at him looking for any sign of recognition in the boy’s eyes but there was nothing in them, nothing at all. The Timekeeper felt all of his one hundred years in that moment but he placed a hand on the table behind him to steady himself and said, ‘Engage the enemy. Push them back from our walls.’

‘Yes sir!’ the boy responded.

He turned on his heel and left the Timekeeper staring after him. The Timekeeper went to the window and watched until he saw the boy run out in the courtyard and over to the stairs that led to the wall. In his lifetime the Timekeeper had raised over three hundred boys from the dead, one bloody battle after another until they couldn’t even remember their own names or the faces of their families and observing now as his own great grandson fired on the trolls that kept trying to rush onto the wall he couldn’t shake the feeling that the trolls might be right, maybe humanity didn’t deserve to exist anymore.

A fantasy short story about choices by David Tombale: 3 Wishes

3 Wishes

 

 

Stanley had begun to hate the little coin that he’d come to believe controlled him.

 

 He just stared at in his palm and tried to convince himself to finally get rid of it but then there was the problem of his heart. It beat frantically at the thought of facing an uncertain future without the vast advantage the coin offered.

 

“Stan?”

 

He took his eyes off the coin.

 

“Yes?”

 

 “I didn’t get an answer about that coffee. Would you like a refill?” Claire asked him.

 

 He looked down at his cup and saw that it was empty.

 

“Yes. Yes, I’d like that. Thank you.”

 

Claire poured his coffee from the mug and the rich aroma of the hot caffeine filled his nose.  She gave him a sweet smile and then left him alone.

 

 His eyes followed her and he remembered that she’d been an art student. She had that about her; a sort of refinement that didn’t fit in at their grimy diner. He had to say her smile was the highlight of his day what little there was of it. If he wasn’t here he’d end up at the park watching the birds and ignoring calls from his agent.

 

 Claire handed the coffee mug to a waitress behind the counter and picked up a tray laden with eggs, toast and a cup of the same stuff they seemed to be serving by the gallon to everyone. Yeah, well Mike’s coffee was probably the best in town.

 

 He started to wonder about Claire. The vacation he’d taken from his life had been forcing his brain in all kinds of directions but Claire was a nice one. It wasn’t just that she was beautiful, he’d already fixated on her smile but there was also that nagging voice that told him that something bad must have happened for someone like her to end up here.

 

“She lost her scholarship.”

 

Stanley nearly jumped out off his skin. It was Lester, of course. He sat across from him smiling smugly at startling him. Lester lived in the coin but it had been months since he’d consented to speak to Stanley.

 

“What do you mean she lost her scholarship?”

 

Lester reached across and took a piece of toast off his plate. “I mean she lost her scholarship,” he said in between bites. “Some professor of hers got handsy and when she knocked him on his rear end he failed her. Her scholarship’s pretty strict so that’s all it took.”

 

 “How do you know?” Stanley asked him.

 

 Lester raised an eyebrow, “Are you seriously asking me that?”

 

 “No, I guess not,” Stanley said. Stanley found it hard to believe but he didn’t think Lester was lying. It made perfect sense. Poor Claire.

 

“So what do you intend to do about it?” Lester asked him picking up his fork and spearing his last sausage.

 

“Me? What can I do about it?” Stanley asked.

 

“You got the coin stupid. You can give her one of your wishes. You do have two left after all.” Lester munched loudly and with much enthusiasm. “You know this Mike guy makes a mean breakfast.”

 

Stanley ignored Lester and stared at Claire. He did want to help her but he had no way of predicting the turn in which the wish might take. He might be damning her to same hell that plagued him.

 

 He looked at Lester who was sitting back, his ancient black eyes sparkling with laughter.

 

“What would I wish for?” he asked his tormentor.

 

“That’s easy. You wish for the girl to get her dream back. To get back into the Art program, her talent will take care of the rest.”

 

Stanley took a deep breath and thinking of Claire closed his eyes and made his wish. He opened them to see her still standing two tables away serving a family. He glared at Lester.

 

 Lester laughed at him. “Relax big guy. She’ll get a call later today from the school telling her they’ve decided to review her case. Her professor will get fired and she’ll get her scholarship back. Problem solved.”

 

 “And what about me?”

 

 “You? You go back to writing your books like you promised you would and I’ll consider these past few months of rebellion as forgotten.”

 

 “I knew it. I knew it would come back to that. You just want me to keep writing about your kind. Do you really think it will be enough to keep you alive?” Stanley asked him.

 

“Mr. Nicholls you worry about you and I’ll worry about me. You should ask Claire out so you can celebrate. Get her number and call her. Live your life, what little of it you still own.” Lester vanished leaving Stanley alone in his booth.

 

 Stanley raised his coffee cup and took a sip grimacing at how cold it’d gotten. He wondered if he’d made the right choice but then he had a vision of Claire standing in front of snapping cameras with a huge smile on her face. He knew Lester was giving him a preview of her future and it didn’t look that bad.

A short story about a dragon in its last days by David Tombale: From father to son

From father to son

Jim Roden had told his son and his grandson the same bedtime story for over forty years. It was a story about a young dragon who’d given up his immortality so that he could stay with his mortal wife.

 

Jim stood outside his great grandson’s bedroom door as the boy’s father told him the story. Jim didn’t seem to notice the tears that fell from his eyes when Edward told his son how the dragon realized that even as a mortal he would still outlive all the people in his life. Jim silently closed the gap in the door. He hobbled down the stairs taking care to let his black cane bear his weight and at the bottom he headed as quickly as he could for the door desperate to get outside.

“Pop?”

Jim turned his head slowly. His fifty year old son stood by the kitchen drying his hands with a dish cloth. “You going out?”

Jim nodded his head.

 

“You want me to come with you?” his son asked.

The old man shook his head and opened the door. He knew his boy worried about him, they all did. After all it wasn’t every family that had to look after an old fossil like him.

He went to the park and sat on his usual bench by the lake and thought of Sally. She had been such a warm person. Even after all the kidney stones, arthritis and the horror of watching his hair fall out he couldn’t say he’d made the wrong decision. Life with her had been worth trading in a world of magic for their years together.

Still he missed the sky and tearing through the cold wetness of a cloud. Jim loved his family but with Sally gone the dragon and the man in him had begun to die. He stood up and placed his cane on the bench. He took off his grey cardigan, kicked off his shoes and unbuttoned his pants. He knew no one would catch him or stop him, that part of the park was too cold for most people.

Afterwards people said they heard a beast’s roar in the park and the staff found torn trees near the lake along with the naked corpse of a white haired old man. Jim Roden’s family mourned their great grandfather for long time but on certain days when his son came to lay flowers on his father’s grave he couldn’t help thinking about the pure joy that had seemed to reside in his father’s last smile.