Greg Garcia
Bio
When I was a kid and my mom would take me on errands, I'd find a clothes rack or something to hide under and read a book. Fiction takes us out of the mundane, to worlds fantastic. I hope the stories I write have that same power.
Stories (3/0)
The Destruction of Irori
There weren’t always dragons in the valley. Long before their arrival, even before the coming of men to that fair place, the valley knew only the summer song of the cicadas, and the autumnal scurrying of the squirrels over dead leaves. Destruction, decay, death; these things meant winter, nothing more. Life then was the new growth of spring. Ages slipped by without measure, for there were none who cared to count the days. Time was reckoned by shadow and light, by the height and the width of oak and elm, and while things were not always peaceful, ever was there balance in the valley.
By Greg Garcia2 years ago in Fiction
Champion
Snow fell, heavy and silent on the snow packed forest floor, a fresh coat to conceal what patches of earth managed to break through since the last storm. Night was falling, visibility poor. Through the gray, there came the sound of labored breathing and something being pulled over the snow.
By Greg Garcia3 years ago in Fiction
Scrap
The sun was low and red in the hazy sky by the time he crawled back out of the hole. His breath was hot, thick, each one a struggle in the respirator that concealed his face. He’d been all day in the hole, fumbling around in the Waste, the shadow of an ancient time.
By Greg Garcia3 years ago in Fiction