Snapshot gallery of F.H. Fischer's collective works.
This is a sample of flash-fiction, short stories, and extracts from The Second Daughter's Darkness: A full-length epic fantasy.
Tales from Luxia
Preview of the prologue for The Second Daughter's Darkness
The earsplitting shriek, which drowns out the roaring thunder, has Fjin reeling back to the edge of the inner wall. It is to his regret that he looks down the three hundred feet drop. He leaps forth and to his father’s side.
A roar in the distance draws his sky-blue eyes to the shadow, who rises from below the horizon of the outer wall.
Its mere size is a violation of nature itself. The night sky, bursting with lightning, is virtually hidden behind the all-destroying monster. She spreads her wings, dominating the horizon entirely. “We have angered the gods.” Fjin’s voice shakes as he speaks; all hope seems lost.
Preview: Birth of Narji
Preview: Herox Prison
The man before her has lost all color. His skin moist and saggy. His breath is no more than stagnant gasps for air. His life essence is slowly draining into the ground, and there is nothing to be done about it. They lay in rows upon rows in the Upnox hospital. Pale moonlight reflects on their bare upper bodies through the partly collapsed roof.
There is no shortage of food nor medical supplies, the Mainland supplies them plenty, but they won’t set foot near them. Narji wipes the cold sweat from her forehead by a quivering hand. Why are they immune to the grasp of the fracture?
“Welcome demon, to Herox prison.” The non-humans tower over her. The fierce leader of these insignis, their elite, has his hands planted deep into his pockets.
Weeping, Nitarva hides her fragile face in the folds of the straitjacket, which they made her wear. Blood cakes the left side of her face from where they stuck her.
Preview: Humanity in the nonhuman
Preview: Zoea
Through the mountain pass of Ignis, above the valley below. On the perfect canvas of night, littered by stars, a single cloud rests solely as a spot of grey. It blisters with lightning so far in the distance that no thunder reaches Jhin.
He draws fresh air through a filter of sod and nicotine, letting it burn down into his chest. He flicks the orange bud down the sheer mountainside. Heart aching, he returns to the truck he ‘borrowed’ on his way here.
“She is a perfect mirror.” That is how she is referred to and that is not wholly untrue. Most of the unhuman-willingness to do evil is a reflection of reasonless hatred worn toward her in the years before the great shift. Xia is so much more and not entirely unkind. She must love her ‘children’. I cannot believe otherwise.
I too am more, and I know that will never be seen in their eyes. No matter the cause, no matter if forced, the evil you do defines you in their eyes.
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