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“Wow,” Pi stood there with her mouth open. “He’s as big as my mom, and he’s heading straight for the wall we just fixed.”

A deep-throated, “Whack!” echoed across the plain followed by a sound like smashed pottery, only louder.

I clambered up the dirt embankment as I pulled on my remaining boot.

The giant was twice as tall at the stonework he was smashing. Thirty feet if he was an inch. He swung a tree like a club which shed green leaves with every shuddering impact on the wall. He had a shaggy mane of brown hair, was bare-chested, and wore a dirty pink blanket with yellow cat faces tied around his waist. The soiled makeshift kilt wasn’t the best choice for clothing for the giant. Every third or fourh swing it proved to everyone within a quarter-mile that the giant we were dealing with was a male.

“Holy mountain oysters,” breathed Gemma. “I really hope the big guy doesn’t fart.”

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“So, the lands to the east of Shara are scrub bush and desert,” I clarified.

“Yes,” said Daric.

“And the people that live there are mostly gnomes and cats.”

He sighed dramatically. “Gnomes and Felion. Fe-li-on.”

“But the Fe-li-on, look like cats.”

The elf rubbed the bridge of his nose. “No. The Felion look like Felion.”

I ticked the details off on my fingers. “Which are five feet tall, walk on two legs, furry, with short snouts, large canines, triangle shaped pointed ears on their heads, and long tails.”

“Correct.”

“So, people sized cats.”

The elf lord groaned.

“Pi?” I asked.

The dragon was still in small elf form. She shrugged. “They taste gamey, and the fur gets stuck in my teeth. I don’t recommend them.”

“But are they like house cats?” I pressed.

“I don’t know, I’ve never eaten a house cat.”

Gemma nudged the tiny elf. “He means do they look like a elf sized cat.”

Pi looked up at me. “Oh! Well, why didn’t you ask that?”

“But, I…” I shook my head to clear it. “Do Felion look like elf sized house cats?”

“No,” she shrugged. “They look more like cheetahs. You know with the spots.”

“Except for the ones with stripes,” Gemma added.

“Or the ones with lots of head fur.” Pi nodded in agreement.

Gemma waved a finger in the air. “But that’s only the males.”

“Really?” Pi twisted her face in confusion. “How can you tell? Have you seen many Felion naked?”

December 14th, 2021 edition

Yes, I took on another newsletter. Because I’m a glutton for punishment? No, because I LOVE Rocky Mountain Fiction Writers. They’ve taught me so much over the years, and I want to help out the next generation of writers. Check it out!

Read it here

Time for another excerpt from my work in progress:

I finally got it mostly right.

“A chicken?”

I admired my handiwork. “A chicken,” I agreed with a firm nod.

Pi tilted her head as she peered down at it. “Not… bad.”

I was mildly offended. “Not bad? It’s a chicken. You recognized it as a chicken. You could pluck and cook it, this illusory chicken is so good.”

Pi nodded slowly. “Evan, are chickens in San Antonio shaped like watermelons?”

I examined my fowl creation with a critical eye. It wasn’t melon-shaped, not really. Okay, well, maybe from a certain angle. I mean, chickens were kind of round anyway, right? Roundish with legs and wings tacked on…

Well, dog doo. I picked up my feathered basketball and held it aloft. “I dub thee melocken.”

“What?”

“Chickelon?”

“Are you losing your mind?”

“No, I’m losing my rind.” I raised an eyebrow at the dragon.

She rolled her eyes. “Hey, are you holding that picture?” asked Pi.

I held up the melocken. “Yes?”

The dragon poked at it with a claw. Because it amused me, I cause the melocken to squawk.

“It’s solid,” she pointed out.

“Yes. You told me to try to make the image as solid as possible. You said that if people could see through it would be bad.”

“It shouldn’t… but it…” Pi poked melocken again. “How come I can touch your pictures.”

I shrugged, “because?”

Pi called up an image of a sheep then waved a claw through it. “See. Can’t touch this. But I can touch yours. Just how solid is it?”

“I don’t know. Hammer time?”

Pi stuck her claw into the Melocken. It popped like a balloon, covering me with feathers.

She giggled like a little girl.

I blew the feathers off my mouth and narrowed my eyes at the dragon. “Just so you know, this means war.” I made a popping noise with my mouth.

Feathers exploded into being right in front of the dragon, covering her from head to scaly paw in downy white.

“Ah!” she squeaked. “Oh, you’re gonna regret that. Mess with the dragon, get the feathers.”

Poof! Poof! Poof! Three white explosions rained feathers in a ten-foot radius. They couldn’t touch me, but that didn’t matter, the gauntlet had been thrown.

It was on. I shot finger guns at Pi as she raced around the room trying to avoid my feather bombs. The pony-sized dragon sent waves of feathers at me and even managed to breathe a cloud of plumage at me when she got close.

“What’s going on up here?” Gemma appeared in the doorway with a confused look and wearing an apron that said, “License to grill.”

For several heartbeats, Pi and I froze. Tufts of down drifted lazily to the feather-covered ground.

“Ah,” I held up a finger, then pointed it at the troll. Pop!

Gemma grabbed a handful of feathers and chased after me and it was on again.

80 years ago today the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor, catapulting the US into World War II. Many people lost their lives defending our home on that day and the days that followed. Please take a moment today to remember their sacrifice.

A few years later, I was born and chose to write military sci-fi. Please take a few moments to read my books and leave a review! The Burning Son

So I’m here, and I have a booth. Drop by if you want to hear the story how I went from “not going” to “Whoop, Here I am.”