Richard Schiver

Tag: fantasy

  • Weekly Writing Challenge 12/10/2025

    Weekly Writing Challenge 12/10/2025

    We have reached the end of Hell Hole. This week I’ve only done 279 words. When I’m writing shorts I tend to let the body of the story simmer before I write the actual ending with the first rewrite. It gives me a chance to consider all the angles of the story and come up with a decent ending. What you’re seeing is only the first draft of the story with very minor editing.When I complete it the story will enter the rotation for my newsletter readers who will receive the fully edited tale. This month’s story is ‘Brothers.’ If you’d like to see it sign up below.

    Join the Adventure: Free Zombie Apocalypse book.

    Every month you will receive either a full short story available nowhere else, or a chapter from one of my works in progress, of with there are currently three. For signing up you will also receive a complete novel available nowhere else. Yours to keep even if you unsubscribe.

    Without further adieu I give you the final part of Hell Hole.

    Continued from last week!

    “Eric,” a familiar voice whispered, coming from behind the crystals on his right. He swiveled his head in that direction, spotting a shadowy shape marring the opaque purity of the crystal.  

    “Who are you? Eric shouted. He already knew the answer to that question but chose to ignore it. To acknowledge what he suspected would send his already teetering mind into territory better suited to the deepest part of lonely nights where dreams became nightmares.

    A soft tap fell on his shoulder and he spun around expecting to find the culprit, but the space behind him was empty. Another tap fell on his other shoulder and he turned in that direction with the same results.

    He had to get out of there while he still could, and he searched for the way out. The exit framed by two crystals forming an X above the way out, but nothing looked even remotely familiar. He had spun around so many times in response to what was happening he had become lost within the forest of crystals. He stumbled to the right, stopping when a shadowy shape appeared within the stand of crystals. He didn’t want to see what they looked like.

    He turned back the other way, stopping again when another shape appeared. They were all around him, closing in, yet still hidden behind the nearly opaque crystals.

    He sank to his knees, hands over his head. “I’m sorry,” he said.

    A firm hand fell upon his shoulder and he looked up into Jared’s face. Only it wasn’t Jared, and while this person looked similar, he was obviously much older.

    “I tried to warn you,” Jared said behind him and Eric.

    The end, for now.

  • Weekly Writing Challenge 12/03/2025

    Weekly Writing Challenge 12/03/2025

    Eric rolled Jared over, his eyes were closed, his face slack, his chest perfectly still. He looked like he was merely sleeping, but Eric understood it was a sleep from which he would not awaken. Eric stood up and looked down the narrow mine. It was only another hundred feet or so to the opening of the crystal cave, he could carry Jared’s body that far and leave it for them.

    He only hoped it would be enough.

    Every sacrifice before Jared had been alive. He hoped they would not hold that against him. Squatting down he lifted Jared by his arms and slung his cooling body over his shoulder. Rising back to his feet he fixed his helmet upon his head and moved in the direction of the crystal cave.

    As he moved, he debated with himself. One part of him wanted to leave the body where it was and flee. But that wouldn’t do any good. If his offering was unacceptable, they would still find him. Maybe there was a chance they would understand, after all he’d always brought them what they wanted without argument. But what choice did he have?

    He found the crystal cave when he’d become lost in the mine as a young boy looking for adventure. How he managed to get down into the lower levels without a rope had remained a mystery to him. All he could recall of that time was squeezing himself through narrow passages as he ventured deeper and deeper into the earth.

    Reaching the horizontal shafts of the mine made his adventure a little easier, that is until the flashlight he brought burned out. He had never expected to get this deep, originally planning only to explore the easily accessible portions of the mine. But the lure of uncovering the secrets behind those narrow crevices had proven too much to ignore. Today, as a full grown teenager, he’d never be able to squeeze through those cracks and crevices.

    When his flashlight went out, he had nearly lost control of himself, the darkness around him so complete, he saw nothing. It was much darker than anything he’d ever experienced before. But as his eyes adjusted to the dark, he detected a faint light coming from somewhere ahead. With every step closer to the light, it grew brighter, and he found himself in that room of crystals.

    They were massive, hexagonal shapes, some nearly thirty feet long and at least four feet across. Crammed together into a room he would never be able to properly measure, and that was when he found them. The lost miners. This who had been sealed into the cave after its collapse. He didn’t see them at first, but as he explored the room of crystals, he became aware of shadowy shapes moving just out of sight, catching brief glimpses of figures that scurried about just beyond his peripheral vision.

    “Hello,” he shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth, that solitary word echoing into the distance as it repeated itself into the depths. It was then a chill slid down his back as a soft voice whispered in his ear.

    “We are here.”

    He spun around in a circle as those shadowy shapes no longer hid from his view, yet they remained behind the crystals, marring their milky depths with their shadowy shapes. As if the souls of the lost miners had taken up residence in the crystals themselves, offered a form of eternity few would understand.

    “What do you want?” He asked as the black shapes crowded around him.

    Their answer filled him with terror. They wanted the blood of the living, the warm spark of something whose heart still beat. They wanted their memories, their experiences, their knowledge of the past, and the dreams of their future.

    To be continued

    If you’d like to read the entire story up to this point follow this link.

    Hell Hole

  • Weekly Writing Challenge 11/05/2025

    Weekly Writing Challenge 11/05/2025

    Eric took a moment to read through the names, stopping when he came to a familiar one. Joshua Watkins. Jared’s last name was Watkins. The connection sent a chill across the flesh of his arms, and he brushed it off. It was obviously just a coincidence.

    He turned to Jared who stood right beside him. “Did you have any relatives who worked in this mine?”

    “I don’t think so,” Jared replied. He stepped around Eric to look at the plaque, the beam of the flashlight stopping on the name in question. He shook his head. “It doesn’t ring any bells.”

    Eric shrugged as he turned away from the plaque and approached the shaft at the back of the mine. This was how they would get down to the natural cave. Someone in the past had left a rope to make the descent easier, but Eric chose to use his own. He didn’t know how long the other rope had been in place, and with the amount of moisture present in the mine he wasn’t sure how sturdy it would be. Halfway down would be a bad time to find out it couldn’t hold him. Using the pinions already in place he secured his own rope and tossed the bag containing it into the black depths below. After a few seconds the sound of the bag hitting the bottom came to him.

    According to his map once they reached the lower level it would get a lot easier as there were ramps built into the interconnected shafts that would allow them to walk down to the cave. Once they were done they would use an ascender for climb back up the rope.

    “Are you ready for this?” Eric asked as he turned to look at Jared.

    Jared nodded, but Eric could tell by the expression on his face he wasn’t really ready. They would have to rappel down to the next level that was only fifty feel below.

    “I don’t know man, I mean I know you taught me how to do this, but it’s so dark down there.”

    “You’ll have the light on your helmet, as long as you don’t get in a hurry everything will be all right.”

    They had rappelled several times from a nearby cliff and Eric had proven to be adept at doing so.

    “I know, I need to quit being such a baby and just get it over with,” Eric said. He stepped up to the lip of the shaft and after turning on his light he peered over the edge. “It doesn’t look too bad, but I’ll need your help hooking up, I want to make sure I do it right.”

    “No problem brother, let’s get you set up.”

    Eric turned his back to the shaft and Jared hooked the rope through the brake bar rack attached to the front of his harness. Once they were done Jared held onto Eric while he carefully added his weight to the rope.

    “This doesn’t seem too bad.”

    “Just remember, lift the lever to speed up and push it down to slow your descent.”

    Eric nodded then pushed off the lip while lifting the friction bar. He dropped from sight with an exhilarating shout and Jared looked over the edge to watch as he descended. In a matter of moments Eric reached the bottom and looked up at Jared, momentarily blinding him with his headlight.

    “Are you good?”

    “I’m good man, I’m off the rope, come on down. This is great.”

    Jared turned and wound the rope through his own rack and stepped off the edge. He stepped off the edge and dropped about twelve feet before swinging back to the wall and bringing down the bar to stop him. As he did he heard someone talking below him.

    “What did you say?” He shouted.

    To be continued!

  • Weekly Writing Challenge 09/24/2025

    Weekly Writing Challenge 09/24/2025

    As I stated in my last post the opening for this story has changed. The original opening will remain, it will be moved into the body of the story following the new opening I will reveal when the story reaches it conclusion.

    God’s Chosen contd.

    A shadowy figure emerged from the dry goods store, it could have been Randall who owned the place with his wife, but it was too hard to tell even with the light cast by the burning saloon. Several of those staggering down the street turned towards the new arrival who tried to push through them and failed. The man fired several times into the crowd surrounding him, his bullets whistling harmlessly through the air as the group closed around him and his screams competed with the crackling roar of the fire. Whoever it had been was driven to the ground where the group knelt down around him and tore at his body while his screams dwindled to incoherent whimpers that finally fell silent.

    Reverend Wickes fell back from the window crawling across the floor to vanish into the deeper shadows where the voices once confronted him. They were silent now, leaving him alone with his terror, the image of the man’s death replaying itself in his mind while the roar of the raging fire crackled into the night.

    The call of a lonely bird pulled him from the restless sleep he’d fallen into and he rolled over onto his back, the stained and cracked ceiling of his bedroom shrouded by shadows as the false light of a new dawn painted the floor an effervescent gray.

    Cautiously he crawled to the window, the flames from the saloon having died down and he looked down upon the deserted main street. Smoke drifted across the small town, casting its shadows on the street that appeared devoid of life. Here and there he spotted dark splotches in the dirt that marked the location of someone’s death.

    Where did they go?

    He pulled himself to his feet and left the bedroom, carefully moving down the stairs as other birds responded to that initial cry and the day was filled with the promise of new life as the bloodied street beyond came into view as he came down the last few stairs onto the first floor. At the door he hesitated, not entirely sure if it was safe for him to leave but leave he must. He couldn’t stay here. This was a dead town, and as he moved across the front porch of the hotel he spied his church sitting at the opposite end of main street. White and pristine amid all the chaos the spire rose towards a bright blue sky that carried the promise of a new day. It was a refuge among the insanity of everything that had transpired.

    He raced down the steps, the church the only thing he was focused on, unaware of the multiple piles of what looked like discarded clothing littering the side street between the dry goods store and the hotel. As he moved down the street he became aware of movement to his right and swiveled his head to see these piles of clothing moving as the bodies they draped slowly climbed to their feet and turn to him.

    They all appeared to have died and he hurried down the street, towards the imagined safety of the church while more piles of discarded clothing slowly stirred to life.

    To be continued!

    Read the entire story to this point here. https://richardschiver.com/weekly-writing-challenge/