Mark E. Cutter
Bio
I'm re-blurbing. Again. That last was unutterably boring. Can't have that, now can we? I want flash! Sparkle! Pizazz! I want stories that reverberate through our shared humanity! For now, I have these instead. I hope you like them.
Stories (7)
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Iteration
They are waiting for us at dusk in the neglected park on the edge of town. I touch Zara's shoulder. The Hum gets louder when I do. It always does, but for the first time, I can hear the Murmur that Zara has always claimed to whisper inside of it. Finally hearing it would be a thrill to me except for the thugs that posture before us, blocking our way. One of them sniggers like a moron.
By Mark E. Cutter2 years ago in Fiction
The Pastel Prairie . Top Story - March 2024.
He came back to himself at the top of the rise. This hill, he knew, was the horizon he had seen his horse disappearing over. At first glance at what lay beyond, he drooped. The view was the same in front as behind, except the horizon was a whole lot farther away again. He had no idea how long it had taken him to get to this one; the journey had seemed plodding and endless.
By Mark E. Cutter2 years ago in Fiction
The Pastel Prairie
Regaining consciousness was like swimming up through thick sludge. After a long struggle, the old man finally opened his eyes. He thought he had been dreaming something terrible; he was shivering, his sweat-soaked pajamas clung to his bony frame.
By Mark E. Cutter2 years ago in Fiction
New Dawn, New Day
I was yeeted out of the comfortable map of my life on January 18, 2024. There had been signs of danger, of course, but I discounted them because they looked like things I had seen before. Nothing had come of them then, so, no big deal now, right?
By Mark E. Cutter2 years ago in Chapters
The April Fools: A hero's journey. Top Story - July 2022.
I am one of the lucky survivors of the expression "boys will be boys." One of the most poignant sayings ever coined, this little gem includes, but is not limited to, a wide range of hormonally induced, reckless, self-imposed ordeals masquerading as rites of passage. Most if not all of these ordeals can be dangerous. Indeed, that is the whole point. In mid-April of 1981, my best friend and I concocted one of our most extreme ordeals during an unseasonably hot and humid four-day stretch of weather.
By Mark E. Cutter3 years ago in Humans
My Name Was Danny
The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. What? Again? His concentration broken, the poet Carlyl opened his eyes. Reaching up, he rubbed his temples and then ran both hands through his salt and pepper hair. This was the third time in a row that the candle had ruined his simple mental exercise. He blew out a long rush of air.
By Mark E. Cutter4 years ago in Horror
The Valley of Beginnings
There weren't always dragons in the valley. And there shouldn't be now, Hakkar thought glumly as he crouched and picked up the end of the rope he had tied to a stake the night before. The time for them to have moved on from Brond Vale had come and gone at least six months ago. This had been agreed upon hundreds of years in the past, when the Accords were first made between men and dragons. Yet, reports had reached the king claiming that attacks on livestock had increased. The rope in his hands seemed to support those reports...yet...something was off. Last night there had been a succulent goat tied to the end of this rope, now there was just a cleanly severed end coated with a thick goo for half a cubit. Holding the rope in both gloved hands, he raised it to his nose and sniffed tentatively. He recoiled, nostrils stinging and burning. The acrid odor of the slime was nauseating. It most definitely did not come from a dragon. He sighed, and dropped the rope back onto the torn turf and dirt from which he had plucked it. He hated mysteries. Putting his hands on his knees, he stood. Both his leather armor and his knees creaked from the strain. He was getting too old for this.
By Mark E. Cutter4 years ago in Fiction
