R. B. Booth
Bio
Just a small-town dude from Southern California making videos and telling stories the way I like to read them.
Stories (17)
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Kinsmen. First Place in Spooky Micro Challenge.
There was only one rule: don’t open the door. I know not when it became a rule, nor who christened it. I cannot place its dictum upon the lips of another, nor do I know how this edict became as inflexibly adamantine within myself as that holy script penned by the very finger of God.
By R. B. Boothabout a year ago in Horror
Death Sings. Top Story - February 2024.
Floating out of the grey of the early dawn he had come. A phantom. A spectre. Lone and undeterred, unerring in his way, hailed by the blood song no mortal ear could hear. Down from the mountains came the misty white. It strode like ghosts through the wood, tiptoed over the sodden earth into the meadow and wreathed him who should not be.
By R. B. Booth2 years ago in Fiction
The Grey Wood. Top Story - March 2024.
The Grey Wood was silent in the morning fog, like ghosts walking at dawn. The earth was still the way it always was before it came alive. He stood there among the giants. Their roots crawling deep into the soil where they had fostered strength and wisdom from ages long since past. He let his fingers brush against their rough-wood skin as he passed by them. Tahtanah (Redwoods) was their name, or the name his people knew them by. Sentinels of the realm, they stood their vigil and never a word… but, he knew; they watched, they heard; they knew all... he could feel it.
By R. B. Booth3 years ago in Fiction
The Eldar Flame. Runner-Up in Christopher Paolini's Fantasy Fiction Challenge.
She ran. With all her might, with all her will, she ran. Her legs burned, her lungs ached in agony—breath white in the chilled winter air. She pulled her skirt high about her waist, never mind her shame; propriety would not save her now. Aaron roared behind her. They'd caught him. His voice turned shrill as they did what they did. She'd been witness to their slaughter in the streets, pulling babe and child apart with their talons and teeth. She suffered the terror of her love dying the same. Snot and tears ran from her face into the hair of the child she clutched.
By R. B. Booth3 years ago in Fiction
