J. S. Lemire
Bio
Stories (4/0)
Ashfall: Prince of Prophecy
Streaks of the crimson night sky, starless and dreadful, break through the dense canopy as your eyes track the passing trees. Cloth swaddles and binds your movements, yet you still jostle back and forth, swaying in the confines of your woven basket. The heat of panting breath warms your cheeks and fills your nose. A long red and white furred muzzle has its jaws clamped tightly around the handle of your basket. Glacial eyes dart frantically as quick, decisive decisions are made to navigate the undergrowth. Its pointed ears are on alert. Only a brief pause before you move again. The sound of hooves follows everywhere the wolf goes - heavy, thunderous hooves -and everywhere they go, shouts accompany them. Whistling projectiles shoot past you, missing their target. A wince and a whimper pass through the wolf’s gritted teeth. Louder and louder, the shouts grow. For a moment, your eyes meet the gaze of the wolf. Pain, worry, and sorrow linger there. Your world rips from you and turns upside down.
By J. S. Lemireabout a year ago in Fiction
A Witch's Love
"The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window." “Seriously?! Not another story about a cabin in the woods,” John rolled his eyes and crossed his arms with a deep sigh as he leaned back in his chair.
By J. S. Lemire2 years ago in Horror
Ashfall: The Sentinels
“There weren’t always dragons in the valley"…I remember hearing that once, Lyliana thought to herself. Pain from the back of her skull dulled her senses, her vision of the dark sky blurring as ash fell to her outstretched hand. Turning her hand, she smeared the ash between her fingers. The old crone Gwendolyn spoke of its history when she visited. The heat from a flame licked at her skin, causing sweat to mix with ash on her brow.
By J. S. Lemire2 years ago in Fiction