Congratulations to @R. A. Gatescf1 for her very cute story, The Book Dragon! Great story!

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Join us for more Flash Fiction stories that are fun and help you improve your writing craft!

Story Title: The Book Dragon
“Why did I agree to be here so early?” Kody yawned as he stopped by the pile of paint cans in front of the old, faded mural on the side of the magical bookstore.

“Because repainting George is an all-day job.” Laney leaned a ladder against the wall. “Plus, you’re an artist and need to suffer.”

“His name is George?” Kody glanced up to the focal point of the advertisement; a red dragon sitting on a pile of books, reading. His wings stretched out and his tail curled around the corner. “He looks more like a William with those reading glasses.” He opened one of the paint cans and frowned. “This is the color Mrs. B wants to use? It’s so…dull. I thought she wanted to really liven him up?”

Laney shrugged. “This is the paint she said to use.” She agreed with him about the muted colors. “I can try a spell to brighten the pigments. Just don’t tell her. She’s been on my case about frivolous spell casting.” She recited the enchantment over all the cans at once to save time. The colors had intensified, looking more vivid.

“Much better.” Kody leaned his cane against the wall and then slowly climbed the ladder to start working on George’s head. “A little help, witch,” he called down to Laney.

She placed an enchantment on the paint cans he’d need so that they floated up to his level so he wouldn’t have to keep climbing up and down. “There you go, wolf.”

“That’s werewolf to you,” he mumbled as he dipped his brush into the bright red paint.

Laney worked on the background and the lettering for The Dragon’s Lair Bookstore. “What kind of books do you think Geoge would read?” Surrounding the dragon were many piles of books that needed titles.

“The Joy of Cooking People.” Kody concentrated as he painted tendrils of smoke coming out of George’s nostrils. He even added a Fu Manchu to his upper lip.

“Do you think he’d like something more mainstream?” She had the idea to add current titles to the book spines.

Kody laughed. “Anything but the books about those sparkling vampires. Gesundheit.”

Laney lifted her brush off the wall right after finishing the Tw. “I didn’t sneeze.”

Kody stepped down a level on the ladder to work on George’s long neck. “Someone did.” As he applied the paint over the old scales, he noticed that there was more depth and dimension to them. Laney’s spell worked better than he thought it would. She was getting much better.

“I like that series,” Laney mumbled as she continued touching up the piles in front of the dragon’s wings.

“Oh, me too.” Kody kept his eyes on the work in front of him. “Team Jacob all the way.” The ladder trembled, making him grab on to keep from falling. “Stop shaking the ladder.”

“I’m not.” She was a good few feet away from it. A shadow fell over her. She glanced up to see what was blocking the light. She gasped. “Holy ogre crap!” George’s head and neck had come out of the wall, and he was looking down at her.

Kody screamed when he noticed and scurried down the ladder. He grabbed Laney and pulled her away from the wall. “What did you do?”

She struggled to think as her heart pounded in her ears. “I didn’t do anything. At least, I don’t think I did.” Did she mess up a simple color spell? She wanted to bring the colors to life, but this was too real. She walked to the corner to get a better look from a side angle. His head was fully three-dimensional while his wings and body were still flat on the wall. “What have we done?”

“We?”

George whimpered as he shook his head, trying to pull the rest of himself from the wall. Laney’s heart ached watching the poor thing struggle. “We can’t leave him like this.” She turned her pleading eyes to Kody, still standing in the middle of the street.

“Yeah, we can. He’s a dragon. They eat people, remember?” He crossed his arms as if the discussion was over.

“But he’s not a real dragon. He’s just life-like.” Laney forgot that Kody was new to magic and its limitations. “He was created to read, not eat.” She picked up a brush and started painting the tail.

After a moment’s hesitation, Kody relented. “Alright. But if he tries to barbecue me, I’m leaving.” He climbed back up the ladder and continued where he had left off. George giggled with every brush stroke, making it that much harder to paint him. “Great. He’s ticklish.”

“George! Stop pushing me.” Laney regretted painting his tail first.

Soon, everything was done except for the wings. The poor thing struggled to get free but couldn’t do more than hang from the wall. He reached down and picked Laney up so she could reach his wings. George even grabbed his own brush to help get them finished.

Once the painting was done, they stood back and watched George fully pull away from the wall. Only piles of books remained in the painted scene. A small crowd had gathered around them, marveling at the red dragon hovering over the street.

“What is Mrs. B going to say when she finds her book dragon missing from the painting?” Kody asked.

How was Laney going to explain to her boss that she messed up another spell? Especially when she wasn’t supposed to be casting at all? “I don’t—”

Mrs. Burns walked out of the bookstore and glanced up to the hovering dragon. She smiled and waved. “George! Glad to have you back, my friend. Now come inside. We have books to sell.”

They glanced at each other with gaping mouths. Then Kody burst with laughter while Laney frowned. “She could’ve at least told us her plan.”

Hello from Taiwan!

I'm Terrence. Though I'm originally from Los Angeles and studied screenwriting at the University of Pennsylvania, I haven't lived in the US for nearly a decade. I work in tech marketing, which has allowed me to gain a great many creative professional experiences including screenwriting, acting, video editing, voice acting, producing, directing, IP development, comic writing, and novel writing, off the top of my head.

I've already written 4 full-length novels, 3 of which are the first part of a series that I'm about to start querying, but probably the most interesting project I'm currently involved in is my fourth novel, Xtreme Saga - Book One: The War for Rig. I was hired to establish a new transmedia IP for a tech brand called XPG. The project includes animation, web comics, and full-length novels. I'm the lead writer and narrative director of the project. It's an epic sci-fi adventure story that takes place in another galaxy and centers around a teenage girl fighting against an evil empire that has invaded her home planet. You can find all the released content for free on the official website. Or just Google "Xtreme Saga". We release new content every week as part of our digital marketing strategy, so while the first of multiple planned novels is fully written, only the first 17 chapters are currently available online.

What's most interesting about Xtreme Saga is that the IP is owned an managed by a tech company with no real background in entertainment media, so they give me a lot of creative freedom. That said, they also aren't fully equipped to do a lot of the things that an entrainment company would be able to do. For example, we'd really like to do a physical publishing of the first novel. But the company doesn't know the first thing about the publishing process. So we're currently in the process of trying to find a traditional publisher to partner with for the physical printing of the novel series.

Thanks for reading my overly long introduction. If you like sci-fi, I hope you check out Xtreme Saga. If you're a publisher looking for sci-fi or fantasy novels, please reach out. I've got four books looking for homes.

Truly an embarrassment of riches! Congratulations go out to:

Not All Who Wander Are Lost (But We Are) by @MSTufail​

Choosing Fate by @LaurenDMSmith​

Portal Roulette @R. A. Gatescf1​

Congratulations to our three winners this week! I think since we have three wonderful winners, and we can only have one prompt for tomorrow's contest, I will choose one this time.

If you have not had a chance to read these stories please do so! They are great!

Thanks to everyone who participated and KEEP WRITING!
Leslie

Thanks to all the wonderful agents who spent hours reviewing the submissions. We could not hold these events without you, and we very much appreciate your time and efforts! Thank you for supporting the SavvyAuthors community!

This Spring Pitchfest, we had over 4,000 submissions to Agents and Editors. Thanks also to all of you who pitched! If your story did not find a home in this Pitchfest, we are certain it will with your dedication and perseverance!

And do not forget that we are a short 6 months away from Autumn Pitchfest and registration for this free event is OPEN!

~RJ Garside, Leslie Dow, Dawn McClure, and Walker Dow and all the volunteers at SavvyAuthors!

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Agent Requests​

• All requests have been submitted. Updated March 31 @ 3:10 p.m. EST

Andie Smith, Booker Albert Agency​

Please have these authors send me their query, synopsis, and first 3 chapters to Andie’s QueryManager: Query Submission.
* Please include “Savvy Authors” in the referral box.

• Sex, Lies, and Dating Disasters by Cheryl Smith
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Colleen Oefelein, MacGregor and Luedeke Literary​

Please send your query, synopsis, and first 10 pages to [email protected]

• Death is in the Air by Ellen Gardiner
• 100 DAYS OF UNLOVING YOU by Marisa Salvia
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• A SCOOP ON MURDER by Paula Barr
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• Murder in Old English by Marian Rakestraw
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• I LOVE THE WAY YOU DIE by Bianca Malcolm
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• Green Mountain Bride by Laura Davies Tilley w/a Alyssa Roberts
• A Duke She Couldn't Refuse by Victoria Elliot
• Reining In Love by Melanie McCarthy
• Whispered Hearts by Patience Akpan-Obong and Terri Fields

Jackie Kruzie, Focused Artists​

Please send query, synopsis, and first 10 pages to: Query Submission

• BLUE STREAK SUMMER by Evelyn Krieger
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• Baking Your Heart Out by Bethany Perry
• FIVE TILL PLACES by J. Myles Hesse
• A SCOOP ON MURDER by Paula Barr
• LOCKED-IN by Susie Robinson
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• Nu-Yo and the Old Dragon's Daughter by Shuazong Chanthalakeo

Jacqueline Lipton, The Tobias Literary Agency​

Please send query, synopsis, and first 20-30 pages of their manuscript (wherever a page or chapter break works most naturally) to: Query Submission

* Please include "Savvy Authors Spring Pitchfest Request" in the referral line.

• Scones and Skull Bones (Jacque Rosman)
• Untitled Crime Thriller, 85k words (Allison Meldrum)
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• Mask of a Thousand Angels (Maryn Boess)
• Pebble Girl and the Secrets of Mount Hua (Natalie Ku)
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• The Achilles Factor (Marianne Joyce)
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• Disorder (Peyton Garland)
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• This One Little Life Stephanie Webb)
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Jordy Albert, Book Albert Agency​

Please send query, synopsis, and first 50 pages to: Query Submission

• Dare to Lose by Angelique Russell
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• The Tenth Blessing by Taylor Wylie
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Louise Buckley, Hannah Sheppard Literary Agency​

Please send query letter, synopsis and first 10 pages to: [email protected]

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Lynnette Novak, The Seymour Agency​

Genre specific submission guidelines – see requested information at send to [email protected]

• Picture book request: Send query and attach the picture book MS as a Word document (docx). Add "Requested Picture Book – Savvy Authors" along with your title in the subject line. If author/illustrator, please include dummy as PDF (if available).
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Requests:

• COOKING UP LOVE by Rachel Scott
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• Memoir of a Mangled Mind: Surviving My Multiple Personalities by Steven Shelton
• Feeding Wars: The Making and Meaning of Nourishment by Mallory Thomas
• Naked Conversations: Body Confidence Lessons from a Boudoir Photographer by Meghan Hof
• Nu-Yo and the Old Dragon's Daughter by Shuazong Chanthalakeo

Tamanna Bhasin, The Rights Factory * Just added​

Please submit query letter, author bio, and first three chapters of the manuscript to [email protected]

• Swipe Right by Taylor Ellis
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• The Ivy that Chains Us by Catherine Holdt
• Waking Other Lives by Alena Des
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• The Flametenders by Gabrielle Story
• Kannagi by Bhargavi Kumaran
• Ghosted by Allorianna Matsourani
• The Amulet of Amun by N. M. Mainardi
• How I Met My Demon by Jason Antares
• The Billionaire Bourbon Bet by DK Marie
• Miss Foy's Wicked Month by Jenna Bigelow
• Aramide and the Sea Creatures by Olumayowa Pamela Odunaiya

Amy Nielson, Purcell Literary Agency​

Please submit query, synopsis, and first 10 pages to: Query Submission

• Baking Your Heart Out by Bethany Perry
• FIVE TILL PLACES by J. Myles Hesse

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Editor Requests​

Helen H. Wu, Yeehoo Press​

Please send email to [email protected]
The email subject line must read: “SavvyAuthors PB: TITLE by AUTHOR”
Attach text-only manuscripts as Microsoft Word attachments.
Send art samples, dummy and other materials via a link.

• Paws Off Our Library! by Catherine Friess
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• MEL by Emily Keifer by Firefly's Light by MK Stone

Holly Ingraham, Alcove Press & Crooked Lane​

Please submit blurb/description, short synopsis if available (1-2 pages max), and the full manuscript as a Word document to [email protected]

• Beyond Here Lies Nothing by Katie Maigatter
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Jess Verdi, Alcove Press & Crooked Lane​

Please submit blurb/description, synopsis, and 3 chapters as a Word document to [email protected]

• Hallie Demers Gets It by Sarah Vance-Tompkins
• Ripped from Time by H.H. Pilz
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Josh Gregory, Albert Whitman​

Please submit query, synopsis, and full manuscript to [email protected]

• “Florence’s Rose” by Stephanie Maksymiw
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• “A Hitchhiker’s Guide to Finding Your Family” by Robin Wiesneth
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• “The Lockdown Rule” by Nicole Garnett
• “Chispa of Hope” by Norma Cardenas
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• “The King of Bollywood” by Nadia Ali

Taylor Gelderman, Sourcebooks​

Please submit query, synopsis, and full manuscript to [email protected]
* Please include SavvyAuthors or Pitchfest in the subject line.

• THROUGH THE ASH TREE by Amy Higgins
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• THE BOYFRIEND VARIABLES by Crystal Nikish
• STOLEN FATE by Mary Rose Luksha
• HELLBOUND by Stephanie Bruneau

Tess Jones, Egret Books​

Please email full query letter at [email protected] with the following:

Email Subject:
GENRE – MANUSCRIPT TITLE – AUTHOR NAME – TODAY’S DATE – SAVVYAUTHORS SPRING 2024 REQUESTED MATERIALS

Email Content:
- Everything that you originally posted in your pitch
- Short biography and your contact information including social media and/or website
- A summary including the beginning, middle, and end of the story
- Paste the first THIRTY pages of your manuscript in the body of the email. Do not attach content, all text must be inline in the email.

• THE SPACE BETWEEN ATOMS by Meredith Mackin Rilley
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• How to Wreck a Life by Rebecca Minelga
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Tova Seltzer, Holiday House​

Please email the full manuscripts to me here at [email protected], with "SavvyAuthors Request" in the subject line, and the pitch included in the email body would be great. The manuscripts can be word docs, PDFs or just pasted in the body.

• A Castle for Queens
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• How to Package a Giraffe in a Hurry
• What is Help
• Chispa of Hope

Michael Dolan, Winding Road Publishing​

Please submit query, synopsis, and full manuscript to [email protected]

• #2 Matt Leyshon: I Smell A Rat
• #36 Elvir Belardi: Blood Manor
• #57 Suzanne Mattaboni: Gore, Lust & Kin
• #65 Arlene Kay: The Acolyte
• #67 Mark Philbin: Kill Them All
• #71 Paula Barr Skillcorn: A Scoop on Murder
• #90 Sheri Taylor-Emery: What She Thought She Knew
• #98 Greta Gize: You Were the Topic of Discussion

Story Title: Portal Roulette

“What are we looking for again?” Kody asked as he and Laney tromped through the woods on the way to the Portal Forest.

“Earlberry. I need it for my Potions final. It’s only found in the desert.”

They reached a grove of hundreds of trees with a shimmering aura around them. Each one a portal to a different place either on Earth or a different realm.

None of them were marked. “Which way should we go?” Laney asked.

Kody shrugged. “I thought you knew.”

She glanced at each tree, trying to figure out which one to choose. They all looked alike. All they could do was to try one. “Let’s go that way.” She led Kody through the nearest tree.

They came out of the tree to a beautiful meadow of colorful wildflowers. Laney’s nose tingled and her eyes watered. “Oh, no.” She sneezed, violently. Her throat began to swell.

“You didn’t take your allergy elixer.” Kody immediately turned around and pulled her back through the portal. Twenty minutes and a couple dozen tissues later, Laney was ready to try again.

“Let’s go this way,” Kody said as he led her to another tree. They entered a densely wooded area. The thick canopies interwove overhead, completely blocking out the sunlight. But glowing green eyes stared at them from the treetops and the ground.

Laney’s heart pounded against her chest as she recognized those eyes from last semester’s lesson on magical arachnids. When the clicking started, she slowly backed away. “We can’t be here.”

“What is that?” Kody asked, following Laney’s lead.

“You don’t want to know.” They ran back when the eyes started advancing toward them.

They tried dozens of other portals but couldn’t find the desert. Laney sighed. “We are oh for seventy-three. We’re never going to find the earlberry plant.” She slumped down to the ground, dabbing her nose with a tissue. “I can’t believe I’m going to fail. Why did I get assigned a potion with such a rare ingredient?” Her eyes stung with frustration.

Kody tapped his cane as he glanced at the remaining trees. “You stay here, and I’ll try this one. We will find this earlberry plant if it’s the last thing we do.”

Laney bit her lip as she wondered if him going in alone was a good idea. “Are you sure? What if you end up in a dragon lair or the Bog of Despair? At least I know some helpful spells.”

“I got this.” He turned and strolled through the tree.

A warmth spread through her chest knowing what a treasure their friendship was. No sooner had she opened her book to go over the potion again did she hear Kody’s voice.

“Retreat!” he screamed as he burst from the tree.

She jumped up. “What happened? Did you find the earlberry?” Laney clutched his arms to keep him from falling over as he bent over to catch his breath.

“Yeah, but…” *pant* “There’s a problem.” *pant*

Laney smiled. Finally, after all they went through, they found it. “Whatever the problem is, we’ll deal with it.”

He straightened up but still leaned on his cane. “It’s at the mouth of a cave being guarded by a vicious beast.”

Laney’s eyes widened. “What kind of beast?”

“A giant gorilla-dog thing. I don’t know. We can’t go in there.”

“But I have to. I need that earlberry.” She paced, trying to think of possible spells to use against such a dangerous animal.

After a moment of watching her, Kody sighed, his shoulders slumped. “You’re not going in alone. Are you good with first-aid spells? I have a feeling I’m going to need one.”

Laney clapped, bouncing in place. “I’m going to ace this potion after all, thanks to you.” She pulled an empty satchel from her bag to hold the collected berries.

“Okay,” Kody said as he stretched his arms and popped his neck. “I’ll distract el diablo while you go pick your berries. But you gotta be quick.”

On Kody’s “Go,” they took off running at the tree. Immediately the hot air hit Laney in the face like opening an oven door. She let Kody pull ahead as he headed right toward the…prairie dog? At first Laney thought he was crazy. The little thing was so cute sitting at the entrance to the cave, nibbling on some grass. But when it saw Kody coming towards it, the claws and fangs came out.

Kody used his cane to keep the animal as far from biting range as possible. “Get it!” he yelled at Laney who had unknowingly stopped to gawk at the battle.

“Oh, right.” Laney sprinted over to the earlberry plant. The bush had a lot more thorns than she expected. Most of the berries were concentrated in the center. The thorns pierced her skin as she reached in to get the precious fruit. Blood trickled down her arm almost as fast as the tears down her cheeks, but she kept going.

Once the bag was half-full, and she could no longer take the pain, she yelled to Kody. “Got it!” She ran back through the portal while Kody followed.

Laney clutched her treasure to her chest as she caught her breath. She hoped she grabbed enough. She opened the book to see how much she actually needed. She ran her finger down the page until she got to that ingredient. Her fingertip snagged on something sticking to the page. When she peeled off what resembled a dried-up piece of onion skin, she made an unfortunate discovery.

“Hey,” she turned to Kody who was examining the rips in his shirt. “I don’t need this for the potion. I need Pearlberry. Something was covering up the P. I’ve got plenty of Pearlberry at home.”

“Of course, you do,” Kody said before collapsing to the ground. “Of course, you do.”

Story Title: Not All Who Wander Are Lost (But We Are)

“Well, that’s not much help,” I murmured, hands on hips. This had to be someone’s idea of a joke. There was nothing, no one, as far as the eye could see, except for this sign. This seeming beacon of salvation. I squinted at the sign post towering over me with arrows pointed every which way labeled with particularly disobliging directions such as THIS WAY, THAT WAY, ANOTHER WAY.

I turned as hysterical laughter bubbled up from behind me. My best friend Kristin was doubled over, hands on her knees, laughing, with tears streaming down her face.

“You okay?”

She tried to speak, pointing at the sign, but was laughing too hard to get the words out. She wheezed and clutched her sides, as if she could hold in the involuntary laughter. She’d obviously snapped.

We’d been walking for forever, hours at least. We were hot and tired and thirsty, but we kept our spirits up reminiscing about old times and talking shit about mutual acquaintances, cracking each other up by making fun of ourselves and our shared terrible sense of direction, which is what had gotten us into this mess in the first place. We’d been flagging when we’d seen the sign post in the distance and the sight had buoyed us enough that we’d increased our pace, hurrying toward the distant bellfire. As soon as we got to that sign, we’d know where the hell we were and how long we had left to go…

And now, here we were.

And here was this stupid, unhelpful, demoralizing sign.

Kristin straightened, pulling herself together, and inhaled, letting it out in a long shuddering breath.

“The sign,” She gestured at the object of offense with a flattened hand. “The sign…”

She snorted, dissolving into peals again, and sat down hard on the ground. I surveyed her as she convulsed and whooped. Yep, she’d totally lost it.

“We’re lost!” she practically screamed through her hilarity.

“Yes,” I drew out the syllable as if humoring a child.

“We’re fucked,” she managed before laughter exploded out of her again. The laughter took on an unhinged edge and her face grimaced slightly. Now I wasn’t sure if she was laughing or sobbing. Possibly both?

I watched this hysteria manifest for several minutes. Eventually, her laughter slowed.

“Whew,” she said, wiping her eyes, with only a slight giggle in her voice. She looked up at that stupid sign and chuckled again, shaking her head. “Oh man.”

She let herself fall back, lying on the ground.

After a moment, I sank to the ground and lay down next to her.

“Oh man,” she said again, addressing the cloudless sky, a restrained mirth still tremoring her voice. “We are so screwed.”

I glared at that stupid fucking sign.

“Yep. Totally screwed.”

Story Title: Choosing Fate

The harsh metallic thuds echoed through Melantha’s research facility. She did her best to ignore them but could feel the sweat on her palms and her back grow ever colder. She pushed the sensation away, eyes focused on the sigil she was drawing on the stone floor.

The banging was as oppressive as the emptiness of this stone building. She could only hope the others had gotten far enough away through the emergency tunnels. Hartmut, who’d always looked more like he should be wielding a sword rather than a pen. Taimi, her fingers dirty from her time in the garden. Menander, who doodled little pictures on the edges of his papers. Blythe, with her easy smile and jokes to ease the tension.

The people who’d become her family. The people she’d unknowingly put into danger with this. She blinked the prickles in her eyes away, focusing back on the elaborate symbol her chalk created. She couldn’t afford to make a mistake, any more than she could have afforded to go with them, despite what they’d begged.

She should have known it would come to this. Should have known better than to trust the promises of Emperor Cyneric, despite her ties to Empress Lucasta.

Her research was supposed to help people. To save them. When she’d first proposed creating a universal antidote, she’d envisioned it being used to save people, to give them time for a healer to purify their body before the poison fully spread. The poison she’d created in the process had been an accident, but she’d thought her antidote would be the perfect failsafe for it.

Until Cyneric had weaponized it with magic, his operatives deploying it in the heart of Viltautasian capital.

When she heard what the symptoms of the poison decimating the city were, Melantha had known the truth. Cyneric would never let them live. She’d locked them all into the facility, tried to contact their allies for help, for a way out, anything, but found they’d already been blocked.

And now the imperial soldiers were trying to break in.

It was only a matter of time until they succeeded. And while the others might be able to hide, to change their identities and get away, Cyneric wouldn’t rest until she was dead. Not just because she was the driving force behind the project, but because if Melantha got the truth to Lucasta, she’d hate Cyneric for the rest of their lives. And that was the one thing Melantha knew he feared most.

The tortured screech of twisting metal was followed by a clanking crash. Melantha didn’t need to hear the stomping of heavy boots to tell her she was out of time. Sweat dripped down her cheek as she worked to finish the last letter, the last piece in a design that was the culmination of her personal research.

She couldn’t be sure it would work, but she didn’t have any other options. She’d bet on this, on a different future, one where her knowledge might be able to undo the horror she had never meant to unleash.

Melantha threw the chalk away, dropping her shaking hands onto the ground at the base of the intricate combination of loops, swirls, and magic characters that stood out white against the dark stone of the floor. She poured her magic into it, not holding any of it back. There was no point now.

She heard the splintering crash of doors being kicked in, almost swallowing the sound of the still approaching footsteps. She ignored it, feeling her body go cooler as she pushed every last bit of warmth, of the spark of her magic, into the sigil. It absorbed it all like the myth of the ever-hungry dragon.

Melantha could taste blood as her muscles felt weaker and weaker. The door behind her exploding was almost distant, the shouts like the buzzing of a flies. Her vision swam and wavered, everything dyed red, before she could feel the last breath leave her lungs.

The sword that should have pierced her back met only air, one filled with fading sparks.

The hairs all over Melantha’s body rose, an odd sensation when she’d already left her corporeal form behind. She saw the imperial soldiers, in their dark uniforms, looking around, bewildered. Before she could do anything else, she felt herself being pulled away.

Caught in the swirl of time, magic, and power that flowed invisible through the world, unable to do anything but be brought along with the current, she wondered if she’d made the right choice. Not that she had any other option. Cyneric had seen to that.

In the flow of power that sparkled iridescently, she caught brief glimpses of the world. Or worlds. It was hard to tell whether she was seeing the past, present, future, or something else entirely. Her research had hinted at the possibility of other worlds beyond hers, but she had never found hard evidence.

Up ahead she could see it. Several streams converged and spread back out again, the flow like a giant web. Or a crossroads. Each direction looked the same, and yet, Melantha knew that whatever way she chose, it would change both herself, and where she ended up, forever.

It had cost her magic, her lifeforce, even her body, but Melantha thought the price would be worth it. Her decades of memories would be preserved. And that could only make this next life better. Closing her eyes, she let the currents of power choose her fate.

This week's winning story is Contribution by Rose Gardner!
Congratulations to Rose for this very uplifting and fun story!

The setting sun marked the end of the day’s work and the forest trees sent sugar-messages to each other in excited whispers. After weeks of debate, Green Pine had been nominated to take the workers’ complaint to the Ancient Redwood. Tonight, she would speak for all those whose chlorophyll factories toiled from dawn to dusk all year round, and for the deciduous trees who had already turned yellow, orange and red, exhausted by the back-to-back shifts of northern summer nights when the sun never set.

‘Ancient One, I send you freshly manufactured sugar from my highest needles. Please accept this gift and in return allow me to address the Council.’

The old Redwood rustled his leaves. He'd anticipated this confrontation ever since the day Albino Pine took root and sprouted her first needles. Purest white they were, devoid of the chlorophyll that fed the forest. Unable to make her own food, she survived only because of the mycelial network which bound them all beneath the soil. The symbiotic fungi communicated with every tree in the commune, organising the distribution of food and medicine to those who needed it, passing on warnings of danger or attack, and regulating the health of the forest for the benefit of all. When they did put heads above the soil it was with the sole purpose of mating, and they had no more interest in snow white needles than in the fiery autumn colours which formed a carpet around their hatted stalks.

For many summers, Albino Pine had been fed by her green sisters and she was as tall and strong as them, but without any sugar to trade she stood mute through the evening discussions while the rest of the commune downloaded their produce. It had not gone unnoticed.

‘The Council of the Arboreal Forest is listening, Green Pine. You may state your case.’

‘Thank you, Ancient One. I speak on behalf of all the Pines, and our Deciduous Cousins. We all agree, it is unfair we do all the work and Albino Pine does none. She’s a mutant, not one of us. She should have been left to starve as a seedling!’

Green Pine stretched towards the star-lit sky and lifted her needles in a gesture of indignation before continuing, ‘This is our land. There’s no place for alien interlopers who steal our resources and contribute nothing themselves. She doesn’t look like us and she doesn’t join in socially. Listen! Can you hear her silence even now? Too dumb to plead for her own salvation. We want her uprooted and left to rot. We vote for a boycott of Albino Pine from this night forward!’

The old Redwood was silent for some time and the whole forest held its breath, unsure how such heart-felt pertinence would be received.

When he responded at last, his voice shook the earth and birds asleep in his branches rose screeching into the air.

‘I am ashamed of you Green Pine. Ashamed of all of you! To harbour such prejudice is not the way of the forest. We are a mutual society; we have common goals, and we strive to achieve them together.

Perhaps you believe there is but one way for a tree to contribute to the commune, but if so then you are ignorant fools.

You claim Albino Pine is silent, and it is true she is unable to speak in the way we speak. But does she not sway in the wind as you sway, dancing to the call of the aurora borealis? Doesn’t she shoulder the same weight of snow that you carry each winter? Does she not provide a home for colonies of insects and flocks of birds?’

The forest remained silent as he drew breath again.

‘The older trees will remember how it used to be, before the world grew warmer. A time when humans created vast gouges across the forest with their whirring machines, killing as many trees in a single season as the toll of a thousand winters. We feared for our homeland, and for the fate of the planet. Until one day they discovered Albino Pine, and they stopped sawing to stand in awe and wonder. A different kind of human came to the forest after that, humans who cared about trees, who wanted to know how a tree without chlorophyll could thrive. They examined our roots and took samples of the soil. They learned how amazing and extensive is the mycelial network which binds us, how it creates thousands of miles of communication lines in every square inch.’

He lowered his voice to a whisper, forcing his captivated audience to listen intently.

‘Today much of the Arboreal Forest is protected. The humans who were once our enemy became our friends. Across continents the network reports how they have changed their farming practices to embrace our natural means of communication, enriching the soil with fungi, and mimicking our natural hormones with molecules synthetized in their laboratories to dissuade pests instead of poisoning the earth with toxic chemicals. All of this because they were curious about Albino Pine. Would you not say therefore, that she has contributed more than most to our wellbeing despite her inability to toil in sunlight?’

The whole commune muttered and rustled their leaves. Green Pine was silent.

It was Red Acer, blushing in her autumn foliage, who spoke next. ‘Ancient One, I think I speak for all of us when I say we are ashamed to have been so ignorant. Albino Pine isn’t a mutant, but a marvel. It will be our privilege to continue to share our resources with her and ensure that she thrives for as long as the forest thrives. ‘

Murmurings of agreement drifted through the air and the old Redwood sighed, his branches creaking from age and satisfaction. ‘Enough talk. Look! The borealis display has begun. Let us celebrate our differences together beneath its curtains of green, and red – and white!

If you have a manuscript ready to go, you should check out our Spring Pitchfest!
More information here

And good luck!

OK have to own up to being a super proud grandma here, but I wanted to give @Walker and his lovely partner Makayla a shout out on the birth last night of the latest family member!
Welcome Irina!!
So if support is bit slower this week it may be because someone needs her diapers changed!

:-D

Congratulations (again) to @T.E. Bradford for her great story, The Show Must Go On! Wonderful story by a talented author!

If you have not read it, definitely do, it's a treat!

Our next Flash Fiction Contest starts Monday! So register now if you are interested in participating!
Fortnight Flash Fiction March 4 - 17

T.E will be providing the prompt!

TIA, Keith
3X cancer survivor

I’m trapped in death as I was trapped in life. Stuck spectating someone else’s life. We all make our choices, I suppose. And then we must lie with them. My choice… was Aro.


#


“You’re so beautiful.”

I don’t know what melted me more. Aro’s smooth talk or his velvet hands. They lit fire along my skin.

“I need you.”

And me, the fool. “I need you, too.”

How quickly his eyes hardened, a shade drawn across his warmth. “I can’t take you in my bed, Charice. I have a mistress already.” He waved an arm at the empty floor we stood upon, caught up in his own drama. “She is the stage. First… always… the show must go on.” His eyes burned with a passion that would never be for me.

I wanted to leave. God knows I did. But my heart wanted what it couldn’t have—only him.

Traitorous organ.

I managed, at least, to turn away from him. A small act of defiance.

He grabbed me. Spun me around as if he knew part of me had slipped from his grasp. “Be my partner, Charice.”

My heart skipped a beat—

“Perform with me!”

—and broke in two.

His passion moved him as I never could and he kissed me, lips bruising and tender both at once. So warm. The heat seared me like a brand. Marked me as his. Only when I let myself go, returning his kiss with abandon, did he pull away.

I did what he wanted, of course. Unlike all his other tricks, one magic was absolute—he had total sway over me.

When he wanted me to be his partner, I did.

When he asked me to promise I’d never leave him, I did.

When he told me to get into the box, right there on the stage, without ever having practiced or worked out an escape… I did.

Aro’s crowning achievement was also his downfall. And my demise.

“Actual magic,” they called it. But dark, of course. Evil.

Devil’s work.

How he cried.

I watched his tears fall, my gaze upon him even through the veil of death.

“Why?” he sobbed.

My lips twitched.

“Why must I endure such aversion? Such callous disregard? Such rejection?”

The irony escaped him. His tears were only for himself.


#


He’s older now. Silver threads his dark waves, a circle of pink scalp his only crown.

I lived up to my promise.

I never left him.

I watch, making sure his show never quite goes off as planned. Moving his things from one pocket to another, sabotaging his props, stealing his joy as he stole mine.

I think he sees me sometimes, when he sits to put his makeup on. His eyes find mine in the mirror and he gasps, spinning to find an empty room. His hands tremble as he picks up his top hat and wand and heads for the stage.

My laughter echoes after him.

He can’t escape me.

We’re partners, after all.

First… always… the show must go on.

A few of us are meeting for a Zoom call / chat in a bit. If you are a Premium Member and awake, drop in for some writerly talk with some of the Savvy Crew and members...
https://savvyauthors.com/community/events/monday-morning-motivation.2017/
Today at 10:30 EST!!!
on Zoom!

Grace GG submitted a new Recommendation:

Writing conferences - #writing workshop, #writer's conference

These workshops are held all over the U.S. and are a wonderful way to learn and connect with other writers and agents. I'm heading to the one in Austin, Texas March 1!

Event Locations & Dates

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Join us NOW!

Woo Hoo, we have a winner! Congratulations to @MSTufail for Fake Married! Our Special Valentine's Day Flash Fiction Contest winner!

MS will receive the accolades of their peers and be showcased in this week's Weekly News and best of all, be able to choose our prompt for Monday's new Flash Fiction contest!

Great job to MS and all who entered! It was a special crop of stories this round!

Shit shit shit shit.

It was the litany in my head as I fled the hot, too-cramped clerk’s office and flung myself down on the curb outside. I pressed my knees together, lest some passerby get a view straight up the tulle configuration I’d picked up from the secondhand shop yesterday afternoon, last season’s discarded prom dress, no doubt. Staring down at my cleanest pair of combat boots, the laces untied, I willed myself to breathe in through my nose, out though my mouth.
I was unsurprised by the crunch of footsteps behind me. Cooper sat down next to me and crossed his legs, lacing his fingers around his knee, managing to look elegant in his expensive suit, while I imagined I looked like the tooth fairy after a rough night, in this ridiculous frothy skirt.

“Are you okay?”

I scoffed, decidedly not okay.

“Are we really doing this?”

“Mm hmm.”

He reached in his jacket pocket, pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and offered it to me. I took a drag, reminded of when we used to share cigarettes in the parking garage as teenagers, while my grandfather and his dad were in board meetings. My grandfather, who owned the company, and his dad, Grandfather’s favorite toadie.

I’d had the biggest crush on Cooper back then, until he went off to business school and came back as Favorite Toadie 2.0. Since then, Cooper Ravenal had been my biggest rival. We’d been at odds at every turn as we’d both worked our way up through the company ranks. We rarely spoke, except to argue. Anytime he looked at me, I could see something simmering in his eyes. Hatred, probably.

My grandfather was a hard man. I spent my life trying, in vain, to please him. Despite my corporate success, my grandfather, ever the chauvinist at heart, often groused “When are you going to get married, so I have someone to leave my company to?”

I’d always thought he was joking. Until last month, when he died, and I learned that his will did indeed stipulate that I only inherited the company if I was married.
Cooper, who’d been at the reading of the will, had followed me when I’d stormed outside to ask if I was okay, much like he had today.

“This can’t be legal!” He had been as outraged as I was.

“It doesn’t matter,” I’d told him. “The board is a bunch of old school assholes. They’ll vote me out to ‘honor’ the old man’s wishes.”

He’d grabbed me by my shoulders then, stopping my pacing, and looked me in my eyes for the first time in twenty years.

“We’ll figure this out.”

“Why do you care?” I pulled out of his hold. “With me out, the board is sure to vote you in.”

Something I couldn’t identify flashed in his eyes and he clenched his jaw.

“I won’t let him keep doing this to you, even from beyond the grave.”

I didn’t know if I should trust Cooper, but I didn’t have a lot of options. For weeks, we combed the company bylaws, researched civil cases. Cooper discreetly polled board members to see where they stood. It was almost like old times, sharing cigarettes, laughs, and heated glances while we tried to figure out a way to stick it to my grandfather one last time. Occasionally, I’d catch Cooper looking at me like he wanted to say something, but he’d look away when our eyes met.

Yesterday morning, I called it. We’d found nothing that would help me secure the company, our resources exhausted. The board was going to vote me out.
Outside my office, we were sharing a cigarette, when Cooper broke our defeated silence.

“You could always get married.”

I laughed around an exhale of smoke.

“Right,” I joked. “Let me call one of the fiancés I’ve been hiding for just this occasion.”

“...We could get married.” His voice was so soft I almost missed his amendment.

I stared at him.

“Cooper,” I said, stunned. “That is…genius. We could get married, I get the company, we get divorced! No big deal. Just a piece of paper until the company’s secured! It’s perfect!”

A muscle in his jaw ticked, like he was grinding his teeth, but he said, “Yes, exactly what I was thinking.”

We made the arrangements and right before I’d gone home for the evening, I’d seen this fluffy princess gown in the window of the thrift shop. I paired it with my favorite combat boots and my purple motorcycle jacket. I looked ready to kick ass, take names, and get married.

I’d marched into the clerk’s office ready to do just that. Until Cooper had walked in, in his tailored black suit, adjusting his sleeve cuff and looking like a movie star. All the feelings of my youth came rushing back. This was Cooper. I was about to fake marry Cooper.

I bolted.

Now here we were, sharing a cigarette in silence while Cooper waited for me to get my shit together.

“We can pull this off,” he finally said, softly. “We can do this.”

“What? Fool the board into thinking this is a real marriage?”

That muscle ticked again and he nodded.

After a moment, he stood, and offered me his hand. I took it.

In a matter of minutes, we were married.

When the clerk said “kiss the bride,” Cooper took my face into his hands and gave me the most searing, soul-encompassing kiss of my life. It went on and on, his hand slipping into my hair. My insides went molten. I grabbed his lapels with both hands to keep from melting away into nothing. My knees buckled and my senses were suffused with the feel, smell, taste of Cooper. We finally separated, both breathing heavily. I knew my expression was dazed, but Cooper’s lips spread into a wide, wicked grin.

“Let’s go get you your company, Mrs. Ravenal.”

Leslie added a new event:

Monday Morning Motivation

View attachment 16737Get your butts out of bed and get motivated! Grab your coffee and join the SavvyCrew for a Monday Morning Kick in the A$$.
Your hostesses Leslie and Dawn with drop ins from the rest of the SavvyCrew will help you get your butts in gear and motivate your writing for the week.

Here's the rules, ya'll:

• Swearing is allowed! We are all adults here so cuss if you want to.
• NO POLITICS..we are not kidding.
• NO...

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We had some great stories this round! And we have two winners!
Ellender by @ThePencilNeck
and
From the Terrace by @Grace GG
I am so sorry!!! I was OOO last week and things got a bit confused in the handoff.

Woot woot!!!
I will move the stories over tonight and you will learn more about these two wonderful authors in the Savvy Weekly News this Wednesday!

Congrats to the winners and to all the participants as well!!

The house phone was ringing as Sofija walked into the flat, frost clinging to her heavy winter coat. Tossing her keys on the foyer table she quickly picked up on the third ring.

"Yes, hello," she answered in a soft Eastern European accent as she pulled her mobile from a pocket. Two missed calls.

"Sofija, it's Henry Morton, I've got a listing I want to show you, a last-minute cancellation. Are you available tomorrow morning?" Sofija sighed; it had been a long day and her train was delayed coming out of the city. She was also growing weary of the property hunt; the affordable ones were gone almost as soon as they were listed and the rest were rubbish.
"Please to send listing first?" she asked in somewhat broken English.

"Yes, I can certainly do that although the photos won't do the flat justice. It's also in a rather, urm, unique location. But the views are lovely and the area quite peaceful. Lots of tranquility. You wrote that on your wish list, remember? "A quiet and tranquil setting to shut the world away." Sofija thought for a moment, instantly intrigued, although characteristically reticent.
"Okay, will let you know," she replied, kicking off her heels and grabbing a bottle of Saint-Émilion from the kitchen. As she settled into the sofa her email pinged and a link appeared: mortonandsonsestateagents.co.uk/geraldsway. Sofija shuddered; Gerald had been her late father's Christian name. Taking a sip of wine, she clicked on the link and instantly found herself immersed in a landscape dotted with familiar structures rising like serpents from a misty sea. There were few property details other than one photo showing a block of unfinished flats and prices. Sofija rang Henry's mobile.

"There are not many photos, Henry and just a bit of, how you say, jargon? I see the view, it is nice. The building is called, "Gerald's Way"? But why so inexpensive?"

"The property is actually still being renovated and it faces an abandoned cemetery, or rather a decommissioned one, if that's the correct term. No more room at the inn, so-to-speak. That's why the developers were able to buy the adjacent property for pennies on the pound. Some people might find that a bit off-putting but the price makes up for any superstition in my opinion; I assume that was the reason for the last-minute cancellation." Sofija sat thinking for a moment and then clicked another link from the menu.

"Okay, Google says is near to Hartford station and motorway, very close to town." She set a time to meet Henry the next morning just as she heard a key threading into the lock and her husband walked in, equally chilled to the bone.

"Hello, darling, filthy weather and the bloody trains were delayed again." The normally sanguine Robert was annoyed at British Rail, the awful English weather and his Majesty's government, not particularly in that order. Dropping his coat and brolly in the entry way, Robert walked into the small kitchen and picked up a wine glass and the bottle.

"Top up?" he asked, tilting the bottle towards her. She nodded, holding out her glass.
"Please to sit, there is news. Henry has flat for us to see." Sofija, wasting no time, turned the laptop to face Robert.

"What am I looking at?" he asked, blinking as if there was something hidden within the screen."

"Peace and tranquility," Sofija answered rather sarcastically, "is actually block of flats near Hartford station." Robert glanced over at the cost of the last available flat.

"What's the catch?"

"Is near to cemetery," she answered, knowing what he would say next.
"I thought you hated cemeteries, that they reminded you of the war." Robert leant closer to the screen and squinted at the property name. "Gerald's Way? This is either a blessing or a curse."

"I know, but think is blessing, is Papa looking after me." Sofija's hand hovered over the keyboard as she thought about her late father. "We must look; is sign." Sofija grasped the gold locket that hung from her neck, the one he had given her that last morning. She looked into Robert's eyes, trying to gage his sentiment; he could be overly protective at times. Sofija silently prayed Gerald's Way was a sign; she had to know.

___________________________________________


"Just look at that killer view, no pun intended," Henry asked as they stood on a second floor terrace overlooking "Gerald's Way Cemetery".

"Does anyone actually know who this Gerald chap was? I mean, who names a cemetery after just one person? If that's the case he should've had the whole place to himself." Sofija shot Robert a look. He possessed a rather macabre sense of humour whose filter often failed him.

"I've no idea about Gerald but what do you both think about the property? There isn't much time; there are people dying to live here," Henry joked but was completely serious.

"Henry, please, stop with dead jokes." Sofija was beginning to think this wasn't such a good idea, buying a flat across from an abandoned cemetery, the price notwithstanding. And what about her memories of the war? They were tugging at her, fighting with her overwhelming urge to move on with her life.

"I'm beginning to wonder the same thing," agreed Robert, "this could be one long trigger for your mental health, darling. We need to think seriously about this." He took her hand in his and squeezed it. She had been through so much and had worked too hard to risk regressing for the sake of a silly flat. Sofija took a deep breath and slowly exhaled before looking down at her locket. She read the inscription aloud in Serbian, "Ako sa žaljenjem gledate unazad, nikada ne možete gledati napred sa nadom."

"If you look backward with sorrow, you will never look forward with hope." She turned to face Robert.

"My darling, is time for me to start living again."

An old man in a dark suit hobbled up a gravel path through a rural graveyard. Twisted old oak trees with bark darkened with age lined the meandering path, reaching across like steepled fingers with Spanish moss hanging down. Golden sunlight trickled through the leaves as the sun descended beneath the horizon.

The old man carried three bouquets of flowers cradled in his left arm. He read the names on each of the headstones as he passed by, but he turned from the path and walked through the graves until he came to a group of three, two large and one painfully small: Douglas Ellender, loving father and husband, Caroline Ellender, loving mother and wife, and Marni Ellender, beautiful daughter, ages thirty-five, thirty-one, and six. Caroline and Marni passed on the same day, with Douglas joining them less than a year later.

With a groan, the old man knelt beside each one, clearing away the leaves and removing the older, desiccated flowers, replacing them with his new bouquets.

“Oh, hey, what the hell?” said a young man, unkempt and drunk, holding a bottle in one hand. “You scared me! I didn’t see you there.”

The old man placed his hand on a gravestone, using it to help himself up to his feet. He brushed at the leaves and damp spots on his knees. “I was just paying my respects.”

“Good thing I saw you when I did,” the young man said, smiling, swaying to keep his balance. “I was just looking for a place to take a piss. I was about to whip it out.”

A bright light shined on the young man’s face, and he squinted. He raised his arm to shield his eyes and spilled liquor on his chest.

“Damn it!” he cursed, wiping at the stain on his jacket. He glared at the parking lot. “Hey! Shut your damned lights off!”

“Have some respect,” the old man said.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” the young man sneered. “Have you lost somebody?”

“No,” the old man said. “I’ve lost everybody.”

“Yeah?” the young man scoffed. “You think that makes you special? Everybody has. I’ve lost people too. You don’t see me whining about it.”

The old man nodded. “It’s time to go.”

“Go then,” the young man said. “I’m not stopping you.” He looked toward the parking lot once more. “And shut your damned lights off already! Are you listening to me?”

The old man reached beneath his jacket and pulled out an old handgun, a revolver, and he stared at it.

“Hey, now.” The young man backed away, raising his free hand. “I’ve just had a little too much to drink. I didn’t mean any offense.”

“I’m not threatening you,” the old man said. He held the gun up, pointing it away from the man so he could take a better look at it. “Don’t you recognize this?”

“An antique Colt Peacemaker?” the young man asked. “Yeah, of course. I’ve got a collection of handguns, myself. I’ve got one just like that.”

“Just like this?”

The young man stepped closer, frowning. “That’s not my gun, is it?”

“It’s time for you to leave,” the old man said.

“Not until you give me my goddamned gun.”

“It’s time for you to leave.”

“Stop saying that,” the young man said. “I’m looking for my wife and kid. They’re around here somewhere. And can y’all shut off those damned lights?”

“Douglas Ellender, beloved husband and father. They died in a car wreck a long time ago. And so did you. By this gun.”

“That’s a lie.” Douglas staggered back, shaking his head, dropping the bottle. “What is this? Is this a scam? A trick? Who the hell are you?”

The old man dropped the gun on the grave. “It’s time for you to go. You just have to walk toward the light.”

“Wait?” Douglas looked at the gravestones, reading the names. He fell to his knees before them, pressing his palms against the sides of his head. “Wait.”

The old man put his hand on Douglas’ shoulder and squeezed. “Go on.”

Tears streamed down Douglas’ cheeks. “I just miss them so much.”

“I know,” the old man said, his voice soft and gentle. “They’ve been waiting for you. It’s time to go. Just walk toward the light.”

Douglas staggered to his feet, squinting as he stared into the light. He whispered, “Is that them?”

“Yes.”

Douglas turned to the old man. “What about you?”

“It’s not my time,” the old man said. He turned away with stooped shoulders and shuffled toward the darkness. “I still can’t see the light.”