R.R. Stephenson
Bio
Creative writer, storyteller, and worldbuilder. I craft immersive lore, rich characters, and compelling narratives across fantasy, sci-fi, and tabletop settings. I post mostly flash fiction!
Stories (33)
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Selections from the Grand Bazaar
"Air shots! Air shots! You come to the Veil, you need what I sell! Air shots here!" Viktor bellowed to the passing crowds of the morning commute into the factories, whose stacks dotted the skyline of the Veil district of Vargos. The air choked those new to its level of pollution the moment they entered, creating a healthy seller’s market for vendors like Viktor, who sold pressurized cans of clean air to those who didn’t live in the district. Most factory workers lived in the Sprawl and the Roman Stacks, making each shift in the Veil an undertaking that jeopardized their lives. Ironically, those who worked for the air shot manufacturers were often the most common consumers of the product, as the dangers of the factory district made it a revolving door for workers, with some walking in only to be wheeled out on a stretcher from one breathing-related malady or another.
By R.R. Stephenson11 months ago in Fiction
Selections from the Grand Bazaar
Wealth was prolific in Vargos, even amidst the dizzying levels of poverty that existed beside it. There was the wealth of the corporations and those who served them. There was the wealth of those who carved out a niche in the black market. There was even the wealth of those who simply got lucky, escaping poverty through sheer dumb luck and minor chance.
By R.R. Stephenson11 months ago in Fiction
Selections from the Grand Bazaar
“Hey! Get below deck and make sure that crate is sealed and ready for delivery. I’m not getting aethered by the Reds because you couldn’t handle your duties. Let’s go!” Captain Mwangi spat. He was tense this morning, and more so than usual for a drop-off with the Reds, even though half of his trips to Vargos involved delivering cargo to them.
By R.R. Stephenson11 months ago in Fiction
Selections from the Grand Bazaar
Mizuki wasn’t like other cats. She was the sole survivor of her mother’s second litter, a fighter and a survivor in a city where life for a stray was either one defined by abundance or one defined by scarcity, and the latter tended to be far more likely. Mizuki was lucky enough to be picked up by a young human girl when she was a kitten years ago though, so abundance was her normal now. The girl lived above a row of convenience stores where lots of humans came and went, leaving a great deal of trash that brought mice and rats right to Mizuki’s doorstep. She hardly had to leave the warmth of one of the stores to grab a plump rodent for dinner when it rained.
By R.R. Stephenson11 months ago in Fiction
Selections from the Grand Bazaar
The Hardlands outside of Vargos, where suburbs sat abandoned and half-buried in irradiated sand, where cracked highways crisscrossed the landscape like dry veins, and the only water to drink came from bubbling toxic marshes scattered across the plains.
By R.R. Stephenson11 months ago in Fiction
Selections from the Grand Bazaar
Hans despised every visit he had to make to Vargos. Back in Berlin, he didn’t have to hop into a flying car to avoid risking his life on the city streets. Moreover, back home, there was no degree of horrific poverty that even came close to what he saw in Vargos in passing. When flying from the airport to wherever his meetings were in the city, they always passed over the monstrosity of waste that locals called “The Roman Stacks.” It made his stomach turn to see the masses of people living their lives in what could generously be compared to a landfill.
By R.R. Stephenson11 months ago in Fiction
Selections from the Grand Bazaar
Windfall Casino. There was a time when Willy Perkins’ businesses all did as well as the casino, but these days, all of his ventures were suffering the same fate as every other business in the Red Latch district: failing, collapsing, and decaying both financially and physically.
By R.R. Stephenson11 months ago in Fiction
Selections from the Grand Bazaar
Missy was ecstatic. She finally had enough cash to get her hair trimmed and maybe even enhanced with some synthhair product if she could sweet-talk the stylist. She’d worked fifteen-hour days at the Buzzway coffee shop for a month straight to afford it, and it was finally time to get her style where she wanted it to be.
By R.R. Stephenson11 months ago in Fiction
Selections from the Grand Bazaar
“Now, don’t talk when we meet these guys. If you get flatlined out here, no way I’m sticking around to clean up the bits.” Chuck said it with such nonchalance that Blanco almost had to stop himself from asking if he was serious.
By R.R. Stephenson11 months ago in Fiction
Selections from the Grand Bazaar
Dalys had become many things in the short twenty-five years she’d lived: a brand ambassador for Robins Co., a board member of the Vargos Entertainment Coalition, an idol for all Vargosians who believed they too could claw their way from obscure poverty to something approaching godhood, and an iconic pop star considered by most to be “The Shining Star of the Century,” after a digizine gave her the title.
By R.R. Stephenson11 months ago in Fiction
