J. Nicholas Merchen
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Stories (24)
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Through the Window. Runner-Up in Tales of Hearth Challenge.
Cherry Lane, a brick-paved street just off Lincoln Avenue, was silent for the night. The houses are stilled, their inhabitants hunkered under blankets pulled tight against the creeping chill. The streetlamps cast a dull, yellow glow, illuminating a world where once-manicured lawns, bushes, and trees are retreating into slumber. Above, beyond the lamps’ reach, the waning moon hung low, though hidden behind a veil of clouds.
By J. Nicholas Merchenabout a year ago in Families
The Magikor. Runner-Up in Fantasy Prologue II Challenge.
The river ran backwards on the day the Queen vanished. The first to notice were the priests, rising early to pray by the water's edge. Next were the fishermen, preparing their vessels and nets for the day’s work. The rest of the village learned of the river’s reversal from children sent to fetch pails of water, who returned empty-handed, eager to share the strange news. By midmorning, all of West Karlif was gathered at the riverbank—some in stunned silence, others chattering excitedly, and the rest on bent knees, begging for God’s forgiveness for sins they could not name.
By J. Nicholas Merchenabout a year ago in Fiction
The Passion of Neglect
Some people are born into opulent mansions. Each room has gratuitous space, and, no matter how it is filled, the room feels cold and unbecoming toward life. The furniture and other accessories are made of such fine material that they are not wont to be used. The rugs and drapes are imported from various continents and countries and are of nonpareil craftsmanship. Every aspect of every room has not been spared of quality.
By J. Nicholas Merchen4 years ago in Fiction
When the Silent Speak
The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. On this night, the moon was high; the breeze gave soft, sporadic gusts; and the stars hung unencumbered by clouds. It was, Eleanor had noted, a beautiful summer night. She loved the night—loved the peace, the quiet, and the freedom to dream that it offered—and had been humming to herself as she made her rounds. The village had sat silent for hours—she hadn’t even heard any of the babies cry. Eleanor loved how volunteering for the night watch meant little chores for the day, and how it gave her the privacy and solitude from her siblings that she so craved.
By J. Nicholas Merchen4 years ago in Fiction
