Gene Foxwell
Stories (3/0)
Collin's Dragon
Collin’s Dragon There weren’t always dragons in the Valley… until the day Collin fought back. It was a cold July day on the afternoon of his fourteenth birthday. He walked along the cobblestone path through the bustling marketplace at the centre of Iratus village with uncharacteristic aplomb. Collin proudly wore his newly sewn, bright green woolen tunic — a birthday gift from his mother — while cradling the intricate clockwork toy his grandfather had gifted to him in his left hand. His long brown trousers, cut an inch too long, hoping he’d grow into them as the year went by, dragged against the ground with every step.
By Gene Foxwell2 years ago in Fiction
Paying the Price
There was a saying, Elizabeth Wang vaguely remembered, about how the quality of one’s thoughts coloured your happiness, or at least it was something like that - philosophy had always been her weakest subject. Now, however, held captive in her sterile holding cell, awaiting her rehabilitation hearing, she wondered if she might have been better off paying more attention to the subject.
By Gene Foxwell3 years ago in Fiction
Zania's Locket
“Your shift will begin in the next five minutes. Please ensure that you are fully prepared to perform your duties. Remember! An efficient hospice is a happy hospice!”, Zania Sagan’s watch lit up with the daily five-minute warning timer as she quickly downed her morning coffee and made her way over the teleportation stations to sign in for the days’ work.
By Gene Foxwell3 years ago in Fiction
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