Steampunk – Page 4 – Mist Glen Moon

Excessive

This is Ollie’s third outing my flash fiction. Let me know if you’d like to see more of her in the comments below. The door creaked and dust puffed up from the floor. I twitched my nose looking into the room. Shelf, after shelf, after shelf. Each filled with more books than I’d wanted to…

Waiting

Alessia paused just inside the tavern. Heads swiveled her followed by a narrowing of eyes and hands reaching for guns. Heh. That was one part of coming here she’d forgotten, everything being infamous meant.

Her Own Way

“Get back,” I watched Josephine Maria Ziegler shriek clutching her skirts tightly. Was almost as if she thought holding them would keep the throng back. Fool.

I was known for stealing from my friends

Quick

I slouched over my chair bouncing my foot as I watched. The brothers were at it again. Mayer had even started glowering at their noise instead of draping himself over his beakers. Just a little longer and I. . .

Trouble

I watched Inspector Wittkower ignore the throng, offkey sirens, and acrid stench of a train burning. No. Fairness demanded noting a train wasn’t burning. A lone engine belched smoke not steam. A small one. Hardly worth fussing.

Still Wittkower ignored all and the responders parted about him and the lady he spoke with. Her genteel clothes didn’t belong here. Jacket, bustle, skirts. All screamed breeding. This was a place of poverty.

It

A click. The sound had been innocuous when entered she’d not noted it in her rush. Dr. Nilan’s behavior hadn’t warned her either. He’d sat watching as she swept across the room.

Ticking

Nikolas hunched over the workbench and an open watch. Gears surrounded the watch as a halo. The second hands ticks stretched out echoing wrongly. Too little time. A last tick resounded as the door clicked open echoing the noise.

The Prize

May opened her fan. If the day wasn't going to provide a breeze she'd try whipping up the heat drunk air herself.

“Scorching, isn't it?” Eula said idly.

“Hmm,” May hummed without commitment. She glanced over the plain the stands viewed. Yes, there was the trail of steam headed this way.

Rumbling

As a rumble built I resisted the urge to look. Staring at the train belching steam and rumbling toward you wouldn’t get you out of the way. Nor would my lollygagging or gawking. Rose’s screams to hurry from the plane’s cockpit weren’t particularly helpful either.

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Category: Steampunk (page 4)

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Works in Progress

Excessive

Waiting

Her Own Way

Quick

Trouble

It

Ticking

The Prize

Rumbling

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