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D.N Pendragon

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jul, 2020

Stories (5)

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110 Followers

122 Following

5 Stories

171 karma pts

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By Fang and Claw.

Submitted to Contest #56

Holdershire’s annual conference of The Brotherhood of Witch Hunters began the same as every year. Wizened, old hunters draining the life from new recruits, faster than an elder vampire arising from a ten-thousand-year slumber. Hunter Gerald stood on stage, reciting the same recycled lecture from years gone by, “And remember, never forget the three S’s: silver, stake and…” Gerald fell silent for a moment, counting on his fingers, “Silver, stake and…. uhm…. salt! Or was it soap… soil? Bah, forget it! Silver and stake can’t go wrong I always...

17 likes

The Children of the Black Lotus (Or was it The Temple?)

Submitted to Contest #55

Craig shifted nervously upon his makeshift throne; five plastic chairs stacked atop each other draped in a dusty black tablecloth. He tugged anxiously at his maroon robes, as he waited for his congregation to arrive for the gathering of the “Children of the Black Lotus”.Everything was just as he envisioned it: the windows were blacked out, plastic skulls from the Halloween store were placed haphazardly around the room with dripping candles emerging from their hollowed tops, ominous Gregorian chants echoed from an old tape deck in the corner ...

14 likes

Blind, not Broken.

Submitted to Contest #54

Sylvia trudged through the mud, her feet threatening to give way underfoot at any moment. With each cautious step her blistered, damp feet rubbed against the worn tread of her once immaculate boots. How long had it been since her exile? Three days? No, perhaps four? A life of luxury having been replaced by sleepless nights in the woods and constant anxiety, warped her sense of time and place, over and above her recently acquired disability.In the darkness, she reached out her hand and felt the hard bark of a sturdy tree, “Not the King’s quar...

14 likes

For Whom the Bells Toll

Submitted to Contest #53

The old clock tower chimed three times, its echo announcing to the boarding houses across Peter College that the Witching Hour was upon them. Fast asleep and without any plans of mischief, no students heard the clang of the hourly watcher’s cries, that is to say, no students but for Jacques and Kagumbo.Despite the boys crouching within the thicket, of what was a neatly trimmed bush prior to their arrival, wearing nothing but their old rugby shorts, Jacques found himself sweating profusely beneath the streaks of moonlight that illuminated the...

12 likes

Red Devil, White Snow

Submitted to Contest #52

Damien shook his head violently, throwing off his Manchester United beanie, “Damn it, daydreaming again”. He picked it up and folded it over his ears, which helped ease the noise from the incessant rattling of the store's windows. He stared down the aisle, through the store’s entrance and into the howling, frigid abyss beyond. Worst blizzard in over 100 years, Damien was uncertain as to how the weatherman on the local radio station was able to come to this conclusion with such certainty, but as a simple janitor with nothing more but a faded ...

29 likes