Carl Carter
Stories (5)
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Bladesong
Narold was the One of the castle’s squires. Positions coveted by youngers who who hoped to find their way into the ranks of The Guard. As an elder squire, he’d been given the job of ferrying the Night Guard’s words to its captain and, when necessary, to the king himself. This early, very early, morning was such a moment.
By Carl Carter4 years ago in Fiction
The Adventures Of Cyruss Skull
As it was written, the portents of his birth were witnessed across The Nine Great Galaxies. The Galpharidon returned to the rim of The Golden Galaxy after millennia in the void, in the farthest reaches of The Red Galaxy, above a planet named Voriancor, The Rangers Of The Star Elan stood against a fleet of United Intergalactic Consortium and decimated them, despite being vastly outnumbered, The Skellerites vanished from Galaxy Fractum and the ancient Mass Relays of The Courzai were discovered scattered throughout The Nine and beyond. Immediately after news of these portents had been disseminated, the believers, and a few nonbelievers, began their search for the being described only as “The Boy”.
By Carl Carter4 years ago in Fiction
The War On Christmas
Day #1 My Dearest Sally, We landed our forces in the North Pole today, and met heavy resistance from the elves, who were firmly entrenched and waiting for our arrival with candied pecan machine guns, long ranged candy canes, and vicious snowmen. After nearly 12 hours of brutal combat, we managed to unwrap their brightly colored pill boxes and drive them back. Not before we lost "South Boston," though. He threw himself on a box of cordials to save the rest of the squad. I can still hear his last words echoing above the sound of various artist's recorded Christmas Carols, "Remembah me, you bahstahds!". He died a hero,covered in melted chocolate and cheap booze.
By Carl Carter4 years ago in Geeks
Blade Song
The Gemstone Reaper: He’d exhausted his supply of Shimmers, smoke bombs, shadow walks and gas bombs in a futile attempt to escape the palace. The damned place was riddled with an ancient magic that made it harder to get out of than wet leathers. All that was left was running and, like any assassin worth his salt, he'd chosen to make the chase as difficult as possible. Though, he was worth much more than his salt.
By Carl Carter4 years ago in Fiction
