Jonathan Marsden
Bio
I'm an American writer, located in Southern California. I've always had a love for writing, especially when it comes to fiction, and even more since I love to play D&D. This seems like a good outlet for my creativity. I hope you enjoy!
Stories (4)
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The Royal House | Chapter 3 | The Truth
I parked my car outside the complex and walked in. Pulling out my phone, I dialed 911. “Hello? I’d like to leave an anonymous tip about a robbery. Three thieves are at 318 North Grove Avenue with the stolen Bordighera in their possession.” I hung up the phone and threw it on the ground, using my heel to crush it. I walked up to the house and knocked on the door. A shorter woman with raven black hair and deadly green eyes opened it.
By Jonathan Marsden4 years ago in Fiction
The Royal House | Chapter 2 | The Heist
The next four days went by quickly. Ace laid out his plans for shutting down security. Queen secured two invitations to the auction. King did, well, whatever it is that King does. I holed myself up in my apartment, working day and night on my forgery, covering up an old painting of mine. Every day, the four of us would meet back at the warehouse, updating each other on our progress, and running through our plans countless times. Everything had to be perfect.
By Jonathan Marsden4 years ago in Fiction
The Royal House | Chapter 1 | The Crew
I woke up on the morning of Sunday, January 12th, and went on my daily three-mile run. On my way home, I stopped by the usual hole-in-the-wall coffee shop for breakfast; ham and cheese on a bagel, and went back home. I put my keys in the door to my apartment, took a shower, and went to the mirror to shave. I spread shaving cream over my short beard and took the razor to it. After putting on some aftershave, I studied my appearance. I'm a fairly short man, only five foot nine inches, with dirty blonde hair, and a lean build. The most curious feature, however, were my eyes, one gold, one silver. After getting dressed for the day, in simple jeans and a t-shirt, and went to my kitchen to eat my bagel. There was a letter on the table that hadn’t been there when I got home. I looked around cautiously before grabbing it and slitting the top of the envelope, to take out the letter. All there was was an address and time:
By Jonathan Marsden4 years ago in Fiction
The Last Son of Godric
"There weren't always dragons in the valley. Did you know that?" Wind howled across the eerily quiet battlefield. Smoke and ash from the destroyed camp settled across the field of bodies from both the rebels and the Imperials. There was the soft sound of dirt shifting underneath my boots as I paced in front of the man kneeling before me. "Dragons first appeared only 20 years ago, about the same time that your leader overthrew the rightful king, General Grey." I stopped my pacing to look at his face, hair matted to his head with dried blood, and knelt next to him and directed his gaze to the valley below us. "Do you see that bend in the river? There was a town there, 20 years ago. That was my home. I still remember the day that a shadow swept across the it, followed by the heat of dragon fire. I still remember the screams of every person that I knew being burnt alive. The miller, his daughter, and I made our way to the capitol, barely alive, surviving off of whatever scraps we could find. We weren't the only refugees carrying word of dragons, but your so-called king did nothing."
By Jonathan Marsden4 years ago in Fiction
