Amuse-gueule or very short stories

LOL!!!!

haha what a very noice story! and yeah i spelled it noice because its more than nice and it is linked to how a redhead old scotish captain says nice "Noice!!" or just a "Yarrr!!!"

ill be posting a lil story here soon

An enjoyable few stories. Neko kittens are indeed sweet, and the fish story was very much to the point; Felarya's oceans are undeniably among its most dangerous environments. As for "Gonna Need a Bigger Net"... One shouldn't grin at the fate of hapless fairy hunters, I suppose, but that was amusingly done.

(Thank you to Timing2 who helped build this tale, because yes, it is a tale.)

That's a very well put together tale - done simply, but still able to be spooky. I'm also impressed at the effort put into editing this to make sure that the grammar and spelling are all correct.

Now... for the canon-asshole that I am... I must point out that the Mysterious Temple is much, much, much older than Negav. (Thus, assumably, the rock it is on is also as old.) The Jadong Lake is also not really part of the Jewel River.

Since this is just supposed to be a legend anyways, it doesn't really matter - but it is a small detail that holds back the full potential of the legend. After all, the scariest legends are the ones that can't be disproved easily....

Quite unexpected, and very neat! It has all the ingredients of a classic legend, woven together in an effective story.

Okay, I'm gonna try this.

The night air was chill. Was it actually, or was that only the chill of suspense and fear that had settled on her spine? She smelled them everywhere around her; they could hide from her eyes, maybe even from her ears, but nothing could hide from her nose. Their odors mingled into a stew of alien scents that filled the air around her like a miasma. The forest was not silent; things skittered and chittered and hissed in the shadows, but none of these sounds were presently near. Her short white hair was disheveled, her grey eyes wide and bloodshot, mouth dry and body aching. She had hardly stopped to rest in the three or four days she'd been lost in this hellscape; she had to keep moving. They'd catch her if she stopped. Just like the six guards who, until that morning, accompanied her.

She remembered the black leather jacket her father had given her once. She treasured it, wore it every day. It was gone now; one of those things, a titanic abomination with the upper body of a woman and the lower body of a spider, had grabbed her by its neck. She had to squirm her arms out of the sleeves, and then run until even her strong legs burned to keep from being devoured. She had emptied the last clip of her assault rifle into the face of a mammoth worm-like creature to ward it off, and even that only bought her a few more moments to find cover. She was down to her pistol now, and if a military assault rifle did that little, the handgun was practically useless, she realized.

Panting and soaked in sweat, she had to stop. She had stayed in the monstrous ferns and bushes of the underbrush, avoiding going out into the open as much as possible; they hid beneath the earth and in the trees, waiting in their burrows and webs. She looked out across the darkened clearing; not too far away was a large mass of tangled grey roots. It was the closest thing to a safe spot she'd likely find here. Her eyes darted around, her ears erect and listening, her nose sniffing. She neither saw nor heard anything lurking among the trees. She looked up; nothing stirred in the immaculate webs stretching in between the trees, either. The smell of foliage and monsters filled the air all around her, confusing her senses only slightly; the coast was clear. For now. She hurried to the roots and climbed up into a deep nook in between the petrified tendrils.

Curled up in the nook, she took off her backpack, opened it, and reached in, pulling out what remained of a stick of dried meat and her half-empty metal canteen. She rationed her food and water as best she could, but even so, she was running out. Ravenously taking a bite from the meat and a swig of the water, she savored the taste a few moments before greedily swallowing. Her belt was tightened around her waist, to drown out the hunger pain; she had to eliminate as many distractions as possible.

How long had it been since she had slept last?

She closed her eyes.

"What have we here?" a woman's voice muttered happily outside of the nook. Hot, hungry breath washed over her. Her eyes opened to see a single enormous violet one staring in at her. Dammit. Dammit! She had stayed too long. This was likely it, she realized with grim resolution. This was probably as far as she'd go.

She swallowed hard. Even so, she refused to go gently.

She grabbed the pistol from the holster and fired into the eye.

No shots rang out in the lightless bedroom, even as she pulled the trigger again and again.

"Nalea?"

She stopped pulling, her hands shaking violently. Her breath quavered as she sat bolt upright. Her eyes were wide and blank.

"Nalea, what is it?" The girl with the long golden curls and deep brown eyes sat up next to her, her voice worried and comforting. "Was it the forest again? Are you remembering the forest?"

"Erin..." Nalea's voice shook like her breath and body. The gun fell from her hands. Her mouth hung open stupidly. "Erin, it was the forest. It was the damned forest again."

Erin embraced the Inu gently. Nalea's head came to rest on her shoulder, her eyes still staring forward into the dark. Erin stroked her wavy white hair with the care and love of a mother. "You're alright," she assured Nalea. "All that's over now. You're safe here with me, in Negev. Everything's alright now, it's over..."

Very nice job here I can't wait to see more from you. I did notice one typo while reading though.

zersergathant wrote:

She had stayed in the monstrous ferns and bushes of the underbrush, avoiding going out into the open as much as possible; they hid beneath the earth and in the trees, waiting in thier burrows and webs.

"their" not "thier"

It's certainly well written. You convey the tension very well - what it must feel like to be in her place. The truly frightening side of Felarya. The fearful efforts for survival.

Here is a silly, stupid story.

Despite the silliness, I'm posting this to give a little insight into a character, through the influence of someone close to her.

But still, ridiculous adorable lisp. So don't take it that serious. XD

Rethpect

Fenja laughed as the last humans tried to escape. She’d eaten near every man and woman in the caravan and only a pair of absolutely terrified girls remained, shuddering in her grasp as she crouched over her grim handiwork. The rough path, between the imposing pine trees and the sloping ridge, was empty besides her and her victims.

“Hmm… whith of you thould I eat firthst?” she said, giving a wide grin that showed her missing front teeth and already emerging tusks. The young Jotun child lorded over the smashed remains of the wagons with impetuous arrogance, brushing her unruly mop of hair out of her eyes.

“Please, please, let us go!” sobbed one of them. “Please, we’ll do anything!”

“Hrmmm.” Mused Fenja. “I don’t know. Maybe I thould let one of you go… or maybe not.”

“Yes! Maybe yes!” cried her other victim. Fenja ran her tongue across both of them.

“Hrmm, I can’t dethide whith of you ith tathtier…” she mused.

She grinned. “Hmm, maybe I can have fun with you.” Her mind, as evil as only that of a child’s can be, could almost be seen working behind her gleaming and excited eyes.

“Or…” came a voice, along with the sound of someone sliding down the ridge behind her. “You could not play with your food.”

Fenja turned to see her older brother approaching her awkwardly. Everything he did was rather awkward – he was lean, gangly and pale of skin and hair. Though male, his tusks were small – almost feminine. Other Jotun children often called them wimp-tusks. Lukas just laughed it off. Fenja tended to respond to such insults to her brother with swift kicks to the groin. Few of the other children insulted Lukas as much these days.

Lukas strode up to where she was crouching with a few long strides.

“I’m jutht having fun, Lukath… Lukaths… Lukas.” She always tried to get her brother’s name correct. She looked up at him with innocence and a little indignation. She stuffed her meals into a pouch, standing to face him.

He looked around. “You seem to have made quite a mess.”

Fenja giggled. “Yeah… they were tho thilly trying to thoot me or run away.”

Lukas look down at her. “That’s no excuse to torture them, Fenja.”

Fenja pouted. “Hey, I caught them, fair and thquare.” She protested.

“Maybe that’s true.” He replied. “But that’s no reason to not be respectful.”

“Rethpectful!?” groaned Fenja. “They’re jutht food!”

“So?” replied Lukas sternly, crossing his arms. “You’re “just food” to something bigger out there.”

Fenja scowled. “What do you know? You’re a veg… veggie…. vegetablarian!” she declared, spitting the word as a grievous insult. Actually, her brother did eat cooked meat, but the distinction was lost on her.

“I’m not trying to change your diet, Fenja.” He said calmly. “I’m just reminding you its wrong to mess with your food. They’re giving their lives to nourish yours. Isn’t that enough? It doesn’t matter that they were too slow, weak, or foolish to escape. They tried, which is what matters.”

“Ugh. Ith this going to turn into another thircle of life rant?” sighed Fenja. Her brother loved going on for hours about that sort of spiritual crap.

Lukas laughed. “That’s always something I’m willing to threaten. Look – would you like it if something bigger than you did this to you?”

“If I was thtupid enough to get caught I’d detherve it.”

“Yes, getting eaten, maybe. But would you like your predator to lecture you? To tease you?”

“No….”

“Remember Fenja. There’s nothing wrong with eating. Or getting eaten. That happens to everyone, eventually. You can’t change that. But you can change yourself. Nothing ends, so what goes around comes around. When you die, do you want to be judged as the jerk who tortured little people? That’s a step backwards.”

Fenja shook her head.

“When I die I want it to be when I’m a billion and two years old, in a gigantic explothion, after I thave the valley from an army of demon-elveths and monthers and thtuff.” Fenja had worked that out in detail. “Then I want to be made the godeth of awethomeness.”

Lukas smiled. “I’m sure you’ll manage it.”

Fenja frowned. She then took her pouch and laid it down on the ground, opening it. The two terrified girls stepped out, looking around in fear.
Fenja pointed at the woods. “Okay. I’ll do this right. Head to the woods.”

The girls stared in shock. “Th-thank you!” stammered one. “Thank you for l-letting us go.”

Fenja cackled. “I’m not letting you go, thilly. I’m giving you a head thtart.”

And with that, the girls were gone, running in a swift panic.

“They’re fatht.” Said Fenja, impressed. She smiled. “But that makes it fun, huh?”

Lukas put his hand on her shoulder her and gave her a gentle push. “Don’t give them too big a head start. Be fair, not dumb. Good hunting, little sister.”

“Hah! Nothing can ethcape Fenja!” she cried, bounding into the trees. She grinned and laughed as she ran. Her brother was right. The cheap, sour pleasures of tormenting a helpless victim were pathetic. True pleasure came in the running, the catching, the invisible bond of predator and prey. The sacred, ancient art of the hunt. She was glad she had such a smart brother.

That was a nice one ^^
Fenja's version of her death with her being the goddess of "awethomeness" was cute XP

I'm loving this thread so far. Thumbs up to everyone whose posted!

I'm going to try again. I'm not big on vore, as I've said before, but I thought I'd try integrating that element into this one.


First Time

"W-Wait! No!"

"Why not?"

Kaelin eyed the human dangling from between the fingers of his right hand. She was a pale-skinned girl with long ginger hair clad in a green top and faded blue pants, who he had ambushed as she rode atop a four-legged animal, leading three more of the beasts behind her. He figured she wasn't from around here- he felt a bit guilty for ambushing her when she had no idea where she was or what was awaiting her, but this wasn't an opportunity he was going to pass up. He'd already eaten the animals- the one she rode reared up and wailed, throwing her to the ground, when he pounced at the ones in the back. They filled his belly very nicely, and he was now happily bloated- however, there was still just enough room left in his gut for this morsel. The naga's hazel eyes looked over her small body with hunger, despite how full he already was.

Kaelin had never eaten a human before. He thought he'd try it. He'd heard girls tasted better.

"Why not? I-I'm a person! I'm a human being!" she cried, squirming and flailing.

Kaelin cocked his head to the side and swept his messy brown hair out of his eyes. "I suppose you are," he muttered thoughtfully. He then shrugged. "Not that I care, though. You're reportedly delicious, so that's about all I'm concerned with." He smiled handsomely, while patting the mammoth bulge of his belly with his free hand. "Nothing personal, of course." Reclining against a tree, his sorrel tail lazily dragging itself back and forth in anticipation, he opened his mouth.

"N-No!" she shrieked. "Please, dear god, don't!"

His mouth snapped shut. His smile faltered. Did he want to do this? He didn't have to eat this girl. At least, not right now- he was already quite full. The tip of his tail twitched. She was quite pretty; he didn't want to destroy something beautiful.

But humans are delicious, he'd been told.

"Just plop them in," a friend once told him. "Savour them a minute- unless you're really good, you won't be having them very often."

Kaelin took a deep breath, opened his mouth again, and dropped the screaming girl in. He let her writhe on his tongue a moment or two. The taste of her was unlike anything he'd ever had before; so sweet, so fresh! She was, as he was promised, delicious.

But she still screamed. "No! No, let me out! Please, let me out!"

"They go down nice and smooth," his friend said. "Humans are like fine wine, see; they taste best when they're aged just right, when they're right between child and adult, and they go down nice and smooth."

He swallowed; she formed a slow-moving lump as his throat muscles dragged her down his gullet, and she squirmed all the while. Kaelin felt at first like he was going to choke on her.

"Keep them alive; they squirm around in your stomach. Feels great, like you're being tickled from the inside."

The girl kept struggling inside him. The sensation was strange, like his stomach was churning. It felt less like tickling and more like scratching. Perhaps its was only because he was already full, but it felt like his gut was going to burst because of her struggles.

"Try swallowing air- it keeps them alive longer, so they struggle more."

Kaelin let the girl's struggles die, until she finally became still. He remembered his friend smiling contently and dozing off. He remained wide awake. He did not smile.

Brilliant.

I love your. on. the. point. sentences. brings a new life to the story !

bravo!

Man, I love this thread. Shame on me for being so neglectful. I need to do another of these short stories, always seems to help with writer's block.

Asuroth wrote:

Gonna Need a Bigger Net

Pure hilariousness. Faery Hunters are like the ultimate comic relief of Felarya; no matter what happens to them it's always funny.

Krisexy26 wrote:

Blanche

As I mentioned on DA, this was wonderfully done with a crisp fairytale type atmosphere.

zersergathant wrote:

The Forest Again

Neat. A compelling look into the darker side of Felarya - even for those who don't get eaten.

Jætte_Troll wrote:

Rethpect

Heh, pretty adorable, and the unusual 'honor system' during hunting was pretty interesting. And of course that lisp, XD

zersergathant wrote:

First Time

Mmmh, darker still, though significantly more subtle about it. Not the usual suspects, but I can dig it.

In attempting the exorcise myself of writer's block, I seem to have produced a bizarre, completely unforgivable glimpse into a very alternate version of Felarya. With shameless vore. I have no idea exactly where I went wrong, but this may be the silliest thing I've ever written. Apologies all around. XD

Jungle Out There

Tension and the chill from the air-conditioning hung heavy in the large room. Large compared to Emireth and the other two occupants, anyway. Many employees wouldn't be able to squeeze a head in. Which would have been comforting, except Emireth had heard the one they'd be talking to was-

"Hello hello, sorry for the wait! You know how busy things can get, especially with the economy lately," a new voice said briskly, making everyone jump. The source of the voice was an extremely attractive woman, crisply dressed in a flattering business suit, her dark red hair tied back in a bun. She wouldn't have been intimidating at all, except for the pair of dragonfly wings folded against her back, and the little back antenna protruding from her head.

"Ohh... that's fine, we haven't been here long..."

"Good good! I'm Lithia, and I'll be performing this review. Normally wouldn't be necessary, but the company's taken some hits, which is especially bad with that new magic PC Ps'isol Inc. is about to release. It's a jungle out there; gotta stay competitive." She seemed friendly enough, but Emireth knew better than to judge a fairy by her words. Or apparent actions. Or anything, really.

"OK... Ms. Tidwell, let's just start with you, hmmm?" Without another word Lithia set to her task, thumbing through a rather thick stack of papers, while the subject of her attention fidgeted in place.

Time passed slowly in the uncomfortable silence, until Lithia finally spoke up. "Miss Tidwell, according to this, you've taken quite a few sick days. Nearly half-again more than the usual allotment."

"I know, but I'll try to make it up! I'm sorry, I just... I just haven't been feeling well lately..."

"So it seems. Except, upon examination, almost all of your recent sick-days coincide with release-dates of major computer games. Faldathée 3, Ur-Sagol's Gate 2: Throne of Déméchrelle, World of Vorecraft, etc." A long, awkward silence passed between the two, with Tidwell squirming under Lithia's piercing gaze.

"Ummm, that's... That's quite a coincidence," the human woman finally replied with a nervous fake-smile.

"Mmm hmm. Well, I'm afraid Nemyra Technologies won't be needing your services any longer. Effective immediately, your employment here is over," Lithia said with finality, setting aside the stack of papers. Then, Tidwell seemed to vanish in her seat.

"What the hell?! Why, what...? Did you…?" A tiny voice squeaked, while Lithia casually leaned forward and plucked something small from the recently vacated seat. It was Tidwell, except now she was barely three inches tall.

"You're so much cuter this way, don't you think?"

"No! You can't, it was right there in my contract! I made absolutely sure! You can't eat employees, it's against company policy!"

"Don't be silly, I'd never eat an employee; that'd be terrible for business, not to mention morale. You, on the other hand, are currently unemployed, and since I skipped lunch today I think I'll just help myself."

"No! No, it's not my fault, anyone who makes a game that addictive shouldn't be allowwaaaah!" Shardess let out a tiny, desperate cry as she was shoved unceremoniously into the fairy's mouth. Lithia closed her eyes and hummed softly, as though she were experiencing some sort of deeply sensual pleasure. Several more, increasingly panicked squeals issued from within her mouth, followed by a very audible swallow. A barely visible bulge rippled down her throat, before vanishing forever, marking the end of Tidwell's employment, and indeed existence as anything besides food.

Finally, the fairy opened her eyes, returning her attention to the two remaining humans in the room. "Mmmm... Funny, she doesn't seem all that lazy now. Quite the squirmer, in fact. Might ought to have directed all that energy into something more productive." It wasn't the first time Emireth had watched someone get eaten, living and working where she did, but it was not the sort of thing you got used to.

Turning her attention to the woman sitting next to Emireth, Lithia spoke: "Alrighty then, Ms. Bluestone: you're next."

"Wha, wh-what did I do wrong!? No, please I-"

"For review."

"Ohh, right. O-of course."

"Indeed. Now I'll just have a little look here." Once again, Lithia thumbed through her notes, though for a much shorter duration this time. "Oh my. Says here you've been caught stealing office supplies, sleeping on the job and... Having sexual relations with a co-worker in the supply-room? I'm surprised you haven't been fired already."

"Umm, yeah... But I'm always at work on time!"

"Well, I don't even have to feel guilty about this. You're fired, Ms. Bluestone, effective immediately."

"Ulp, uhh, I-I suppose I aught to go clean out my desk now?" she sounded quite keen on getting out of the room, and Emireth couldn't really blame her.

"No, I rather think someone else will have to do that, since you'll be otherwise... Occupied," Lithia said with a sly little smirk. The Bluestone girl, to her credit, jumped up from her seat and tried to run, but the fairy was quicker, and had the human shrunken and squirming in her hand in a flash. This time Emireth turned away, trying not to focus on the frantic cries from her doomed (former) coworker, and then the inevitable swallow that silenced them. Or at least muffled them to the point of inaudibility.

"Ahh, I do rather enjoy my job sometimes, I must admit," Lithia murmured happily, causing Emireth to look up, "two down, one to go." She winked, making Emireth cringe a little.

The fairy looked through the little stack of papers for a nerve-wracking eternity, making little noncommittal noises occasionally. Finally, she looked up, "Ms. Tyth, your record is quite exemplary, you haven't even used your vacation days from last year."

"Well, I-"

"However, I noted a couple of typos, and I'm a bit of a perfectionist, so it seems I'll be three-for-three today."

"What?! Y-you've gotta be kidding! Please, I-I didn't even write that thing, how can you possibly hold me-"

"I am kidding, actually. Little bit of predator humor, you see." The fairy grinned with amusement, as Emireth attempted to breath evenly and not pass out.

"Haha... ha. S-so I'm not...?"

"No, in fact I'll see about getting you a promotion, or at least a raise. Company needs more workers like you."

"That's very generous..."

"Mmmh," Lithia said, standing up and stretching casually, the faint sounds of the two people she was digesting just audible. A jungle out there indeed.

"Predator humor" - that's great
That was a very good one, it's good to be silly sometimes

" Faldathée 3, Ur-Sagol's Gate 2: Throne of Déméchrelle, World of Vorecraft "
hahaha

TheArchvile wrote:

"Predator humor" - that's great
That was a very good one, it's good to be silly sometimes

Thanks! I agree. Felarya just wouldn't be the same without some silliness.

Karbo wrote:

" Faldathée 3, Ur-Sagol's Gate 2: Throne of Déméchrelle, World of Vorecraft "
hahaha Laughing

Heh, I had a feeling you'd get those.


Anyway, this thread has been too long without a mini-story. Naora the badass ninja/adventurer was featured in my second Felarya story ever, and while I've often wanted to do more with her, other stuff has always distracted me. She may get something more robust later on, but for now, enjoy a look into her more vulnerable side. Also, this one is dedicated to a certain under-the-weather founder of Felarya. Feel better soon!


Downside

Naora felt like she was dying. Every breath burned, and the simple act of swallowing felt like razor blades going down her throat. Her muscles ached, her hearing was muffled, and even her head hurt as though it had been recently struck; the throbbing pain in her temples ensuring she would receive little sleep this night. She was afraid, and while her chosen lifestyle of a Felaryan adventurer meant being scared out of one's wits on a semi-regular basis, this new evil was somehow more insidious than usual. And the man standing over her laughed.

"Haha, I never expected the great and deadly Naora's one weakness would be this," the cruel, evil man said with good humor. "I don't think I've never heard you whine so much."

"I feel like I'm dying, you bastard!" Naora said through gritted teeth, which in turn initiated yet another coughing fit, leaving her throat feeling like it was in bloody tatters.

"Oh, come on, I've seen you shrug off worse than this. Remember the time that poisoned crossbow bolt went right through your arm?" the vile, hateful man said amiably, taking a seat next to her bed. "That had to have been worse."

"You're a bastard," Naora managed in a hoarse whisper, slumping back, exhaustion draining the strength from her words. She closed her eyes, waiting for the dizziness to subside.

"Give it some time. It's only been a couple of days now."

"You lying bastard. You tricked me, you said this would be relaxing. I do not feel relaxed."

He laughed again, enjoying himself far too much. "Well, the scenery may pale compared to Felarya, but just knowing the snakes here are 100% boobless and never get much over six feet long; that sure makes it easier for me to sit back and enjoy. Every Felaryan native should leave at least once, just to see what nature is like when it's not trying to kill you every second. But don't worry, you'll be back to your scary, enigmatic self in no time."

"Hmh. Well, next time you invite me somewhere to relax, please mention if it's infested with virulent, microscopic killers bent on ending all human life." Finishing the sentence made Naora's throat seize a little, but she managed to suppress her coughing reflex.

"Naora, you know Felarya is the exception; there's disease almost everywhere else. And the few places it's not are mostly frozen, lifeless wastelands."

"That doesn't sound so bad right now..."

"Heh, and don't forget; you'll also be an irreversible three months older by the time you get back. Not much, but just maybe you'll get a wrinkle or two for souvenirs."

"When I'm better, you're loosing an ear," Naora replied, deadpan, her eyes closed. The silence stretched out for a gratifyingly long time after that.

"Hey, I know you're kidding. ...Right?"

"..."

'Downside' made me laugh.
You've done very well with describing the symptoms of her disease. Well done.

Hehe that was funny and really well though out

Heh... Nice look on the upsides of living in Felarya. Amusing.

Damn you! You made me laugh out loud at work!!! *shakes fist*

Quote :

the snakes here are 100% boobless

You sir are a genius! That was great!

I'm cheating slightly, as this is a little bit longer than the others - three and a half pages. But it just came to me, and it seemed ideal for a very short story nonetheless.

Rosic nekos are an imagination-stirring invention of Silent eric's, to whom I owe my thanks for this idea.

= = = = =

The test


Reth jogged through the warm, late morning jungle, undisturbed by the light drizzle of the rain. He enjoyed it, rather; it was refreshing, offering a pleasant contrast to the cheerful warmth of the sun. Together, they bathed the skin of his face and bare arms, helping him to feel truly a part of this lush, stimulating environment. There was just enough of a breeze for the heat not to be oppressive, and it bore with it the scent of plants opening up to the sky’s sparsely relinquished water.

He had left the village a short while earlier, heading out for a leisurely run into the forest, towards the east, in the general direction of the Moyuk hills. Not that he intended to go that far. The stretch of jungle between the village and the open, dangerously shifting grounds of the hills provided enough space for a healthy, pleasant jog, and above all it was safe – or at least reasonably so. Especially now. It had been three days since he had passed his Rosic test, and he still felt elated, imbued with powerful feelings, on top of the world. He had been judged by Nikilli, at her usual tree, where she kept her collection of weird and wonderful objects, and awaited young Rosics on test day. The pretty fairy, neko-sized and shorter than he was, had sat on a large root opposite him, crossing her bare legs beneath a mid-length, frilly, light yellow skirt which complemented her frizzy blond hair, and watched him, a slight smile of encouragement taking the edge off her serious expression. He had felt strangely calm. It was a moment he had rehearsed for all his life – with the one notable exception that, if he failed to impress Nikilli this one time, he would finish the day dissolving inside her digestive tract.

Somehow, despite having performed the music countless times before, he had felt genuine passion well up inside him, a sensitivity to the beauty of his surrounding, the soft kind smile on the fairy’s face, the gentle, endless wonder of life itself – that precious life which he was celebrating in his tune, in the notes rising from his reed flute, because he wanted to live, he wanted that life to continue, he wanted it to stretch into the mysteries and warm feelings and experiences of the future. He wanted to be there for it all, a part of it, and it was that passion and desire and sense of wondrous belonging which elevated his music, stirring his judge’s sensitive soul, broadening that soft smile on her lips –her dangerous lips– into one of approval. When his music had ended, and her lips had parted, they had done so not to engulf and devour him –as they had other Rosics in the past–, but to reward him with the gift of life, and welcome him into adulthood. He had impressed her. He had passed. He was alive, with all that precious life still ahead of him, as a gifted and celebrated flutist of the Rosic tribe.

Today, still filled with that pride and joy, that achievement and sense of future, he slowed in his steady jog, entering a small clearing, a gap in the foliage of immense trees allowing a patch of bright sunlight to shimmer in soft patterns over the mossy ground. He stopped, catching his breath, pleasantly wearied by the physical effort of a long run, and wiped a sheen of sweat from his brow. He was dressed lightly, sensibly for the weather, and was glad for the soft breeze whispering into his clothes, cooling his skin.

He moved over to one of the trees, and sat down on a thick root, much as he had during his test. Today, however, he was alone – with no dangerous but beautiful fairy to impress with his music. He smiled slightly to himself, reliving the memory, and slid his flute carefully out of its sheaf on his belt. He no longer needed to practice for his test, but that did not mean he should cease playing his precious instrument every day. His talent was to be nurtured, preserved and enhanced – and, more importantly, the music seemed to lift his very soul. He lifted the flute to his lips, and leaned back against the tree, half-closing his eyes, his breath transforming into soft, powerful notes drifting peacefully up into the warm air.

Time seemed not to matter, the late morning warmth a comfortable constant, along with the soft sounds and scents of the forest. He played, smoothly, beautifully, instinctively, without thought, a creature of pure feeling – feeling shaped into wonderful music by practice and talent.

Yet the young neko remained fully aware of his surroundings. This was his world, and his sensitivity to its myriad stimuli, the whole of its touch and smell, the freshness of a living environment, fed into his music, the music becoming a part of the forest, and the forest a part of the music. He was atune, also, to anything new intruding on that delicate balance. Although he felt reasonably safe here, years of carefully honed instinct, which had helped keep him alive, did not leave him even at times like this. His nose and ears were open to any sudden threat… or prey.

He sensed the neera as it approached, scuttling almost quietly in the underbrush, its appetising scent tickling his nostrils ever so softly even though it had been sensible enough to move in from downwind. He smiled, almost imperceptibly, but continued to play, with barely a pause. The scuttling stopped, and as he sniffed discreetly he could sense that the neera was motionless, close by. Listening, perhaps.

His mouth watered a little. It was still a bit early for lunch, but a neera would make a nice appetiser, before he hunted for a proper, filling meal. He went on playing his flute a short while longer, the final notes drifting airily into the warm sunlight, then lowered it, and, for a few moments, sat still.

He heard the barest of rustling sounds. He stood, slowly, so as not to alarm his prey. This time he heard nothing, though he could almost sense the creature tensing. Or was that his imagination? He took a second or two longer to prepare himself, and then turned and leapt.

He was rewarded with a shrill, feminine squeak of alarm, and a little mousegirl bolted from a clump of tall grasses, just as his hands closed with a clap where she had been. His eyes darted up to watch her run. She had fairly long, light brown hair, and a slender, healthy, adult, sun-tanned little body – her amusingly cute bare bottom catching his gaze right before him. He scrambled up, reached forward, and snatched her. She yelped, understandably frightened, and wriggled with wild energy between his fingers. He tightened his grip firmly, and she squeaked again, pained.

Her frantic, desperate wriggles were –he hoped– a pleasant foretaste of the struggle she would put up inside his stomach, or sliding down his throat. The thought merely increased his appetite, and he opened his mouth, lifting her towards it.

“Wait!” the tiny being wailed. He ignored her, moistening his lips. “Waitwaitwait! You’re a Rosic! You’re a Rosic!!”

He paused, against his better judgement, and looked at her. She was a pretty little thing – face smooth and slightly rounded, hair arranged in a tidy and attractive fashion, her pleading brown eyes a deep, dark brown.

“What of it?” he asked.

“Listen!” she begged. “Just… just listen! Please… Just give me a moment!”

He frowned, about to demand that she explain herself, but instead found himself watching, curious, as the delicious little creature in his hand tried to steady herself, closing her frightened eyes and taking a deep breath. For a fraction of a moment, he wondered whether he should feel worried. He had heard of tinies being powerful sorcerers, rare though they might be. Was she–

The neera began to sing. Softly, with a light tremble in her voice, but the words emerged crystal pure, born by light, powerful, delicate notes. He froze, startled. She continued to sing, the tremble fading, her voice gentle and beautiful, almost a murmur and yet so strong, filling the air with feeling. He stared at her, his blue-grey eyes fixed upon her tiny form, her own eyes still closed and her little mouth part-way open, producing that lovely, unexpected sound. There was fear in her song, but she turned that fear into something noble, something precious, tinged too with an admirable defiance, which he might have found ludicrous in one so small, had he not been struck by her ability. He stood still, holding her, listening, and gazing at her with a newfound serenity, tempered by a slight, strange thrill which he could not yet understand. Finally, she stopped, and those brown eyes opened, gazing back up at him solemnly, with all the emotions he had just heard in her song. He took a quick breath, steadying himself in turn.

“Well?” she asked, softly. Subjecting herself to his judgement. Her music weighing against her own deliciousness, the appetite in his empty stomach. He moistened his lips, trying to find the right words, and smiled almost gently when he saw her cringe, misunderstanding his intention.

“You have a pure voice, little one, and lots of raw talent,” he told her at last, thoughtfully. “For a Rosic on test day, that wouldn’t be enough. But then, we spend our entire life up to that point practicing. I’m guessing you haven’t done that.”

She held his gaze. “I haven’t had that luxury.” The slight tremble had returned to her voice, inevitable. “I can’t practice every day. It’s too dangerous. I survive by being silent.”

Reth smiled. “Except today.”

“Except today,” she agreed. “If you’re not going to eat me, that is.”

“Hmm.” He brought her closer to his mouth, and licked her, his tongue travelling up from her knees, pressing against her naked body, all the way to her face. “Mmmm…” he breathed, appreciatively. “You are one tasty little neera.” He looked at her – her wet, tiny form scared and waiting. “But it would be a crime against music to destroy such a voice.” He smiled at her, kindly. “You’re free to go.” He knelt down, and lowered her gently to the mossy ground. “Take good care of yourself, out there. Try to practice whenever it’s safe to do so.”

She stood where he had placed her, but leaned into his hand, the palm of her hand pressing against his. She looked up at him.

“If you leave me out here, something will eat me, sooner or later.”

Reth blinked. “You want me to take you with me? Back to the village?” The thought was so unexpected that he could not keep a note of incredulity from sounding in his voice. He laughed, briefly. “A lone neera among lots of nekos? You think you’d be safer there than out here?”

“Yes,” she said, with a forcefulness he could only admire. “They won’t eat me if I’m yours – will they? Keep me. Train me. Make me your pupil.”

He sat down properly, feeling suddenly a little dazed. “You’re a neera,” he pointed out, for lack of anything better to say.

“So?” She crossed her little arms over her saliva-wet chest. “I passed the Rosic test.”

Struck, he gazed at her for a long moment, and smiled. “No you didn’t,” he said gently. “You’ll need a lot of training before you can claim to have passed. You may still be eaten in the end. You need training, to turn that natural talent of yours into something really beautiful.”

She relaxed, just a little. “So you’ll give it to me? You’ll make me your pupil? You’ll let me live with you?”

Reth laughed, shaking his head at the strangeness of it all.

“Oh… Why not. They say music soothes the savage stomach, and you certainly soothed mine today. I’d hate for the world to lose you, little neera.” He picked her up, carefully, and straightened. “Let’s see what we can make of you.”

The mouse-girl smiled, and settled, secure for now between his fingers. She closed her eyes once more, opening her other senses to the world around her – to the warm, sunlit forest on a bright, hopeful midday.

I've just read all of this short story thread here and it is pretty enjoyable. Some more likable than others due to personal preferences, but still all interesting. I feel that I should post my own short story here, I need a small break from writers block on my main story anyways. Who knows, short storys may help solve any writers block in the future.

Wonderful work as always, French! I really like the set-up you've got at the end there; I'd love to see more from these characters.
And the Rosic tribe, like so many other of my favorite Felaryan ideas, are sadly underused, I find. Maybe I'm just finnicky