J.L. Anderson

“Making It” by J.L. Anderson

March 2020 I stand on the stage, looking out across hundreds of empty seats, shrouded in darkness. Only the eerie green glow of the EXIT signs over the doors and the tiny LEDs that line the aisles and the edge of the stage provide any illumination. The Performing Arts Center is sad and deserted, nothing like it should be on a Monday afternoon in March. It wasn't s...

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“Unwelcome Guests” by J.L. Anderson

Submitted to Contest #105

THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.Who dares disturb my slumber?Get up and stretch slowly, deliberately, flexing so that my claws scrape the wooden floor. My sunbeam has vanished. The awful thumping continues. Shuffling and the clacking of those feet-guards with blocks in the back join the thumps."MrrrrrrrAIIIIOOOOO," I call to the Giver of Chicken, in case she hasn't heard the racket outside. Visitors approaching."Thank you, Nightshade," the Giver of Chicken croaks, stoops lightly down the rickety wooden st...

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“Adventure Awaits” by J.L. Anderson

Submitted to Contest #104

  Lorilla sighs contentedly as she settles into her little stump chair with its mossy cushion. I've made a nice little home for myself in just a few weeks' time, she commends herself. No one else will likely notice, except for maybe Naivara, who helped her pick the giant banyan tree amongst whose roots she's built her house. The tree is a short distance into the forest outside Thradnyss--close enough that her friends can find her when they have work, but far enough away that other people won't bother her. Nai...

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“Until Today” by J.L. Anderson

Submitted to Contest #103

"Sibyl! It's well past time for you to be out of bed!" Mama calls outside my bedroom. "Coming, Mama," I reply as I finish the last line in my dream journal about the dream I woke up from minutes ago. Whenever I remember a dream upon waking, I write it down. When I was younger, my dreams were silly and fantastical, but lately they've been extremely realistic. Like last night's. A dignified-looking man in a t...

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“When I Was Your Age” by J.L. Anderson

"Tell me a story, Granpa!" little Jordan demanded imperiously from his sickbed. "A story?" Maurice repeated in his raspy old voice. He laboriously settled his old bones down in the chair next to Jordan's bed. Not as young as I used to be, he observed to himself. "Yeah! 'Bout when you was my age." "When I was your age.... Have I told ya about the Christmas we almost spent in jail?" Jor...

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“Gift of the Forest” by J.L. Anderson

Submitted to Contest #101

"I'm back, Miss Myrtle!" Wisteria calls cheerfully as she pushes open the wooden door of Myrtle's cottage, mindful of the overflowing basket on her arm. She's spent the afternoon in the forest that surrounds the cottage, foraging for supplies for Myrtle, as she has done every day since her parents gave her to Myrtle as an apprentice, many moons ago. Myrtle, the nearby town's herbalist and apothecary, comes out of ...

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“New Beginnings” by J.L. Anderson

Submitted to Contest #100

"Ah. Nothin' like a fine meal after a hard day's work," Rhogar sighs contentedly, sitting back in his corner of the booth as he sips his dark ale. Dishes for two meat pies sit on the table in front of him, licked clean. "Aye, and no finer place for a meal than the Felnuth Tavern in all of Thradnyss," Vladislak agrees. His eyes scan the other patrons of the tavern, doubtless looking for a woman who might be persuad...

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“Alive” by J.L. Anderson

Submitted to Contest #99

How long have I been in this room? I can't be sure, and it doesn't matter, anyway. There are no clocks, no windows, no means to mark the passage of time. A lamp in one corner provides soft light, revealing grey walls, grey carpet, a grey ceiling, and the grey bed I lie in listlessly. There's nothing to do, and I'm strangely okay with that. It's peaceful here, alone in this sea of greys. The bed is soft and deep, p...

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