Like my style? The way in which I smith me some words? Want more? Well, look no further! Or, look a little further, since . . . you know . . . clicking is involved, and then another page of– look, it’s really straight forward and right here and super easy!
Follow the links to download the stories, and then read them. In that order. Out of order makes it very difficult and far less satisfying. And hey, if you like them, leave a comment! Or another thing: Review them! You have no idea just how far a review can go to convincing someone to read or NOT read a story, so if you feel the words have moved you, please move some words yourself and tell everyone what you thought.
Short Stories by Larissa Montegna:
(Pen name occasionally Adalind Monroe)
“The quiet village of Czern Lesovitsa haunts the edge of the ominous Black Forest, but it’s not the bleak shadows and eerie silence emanating from the woods that weigh on the villagers and drain the vibrancy from their dreams.
What evil could rob people of their passion without driving them away? What keeps them living their colorless lives? And how can the chilling melody of little girl’s lullaby lead someone to ruin? These are the questions an outsider from the bustling streets of London seeks to answer, but will information hidden in the village’s secrets be more than man was meant to know? And how many questions can safely be answered before the risk losing your soul becomes too great to ignore?”
Find out the chilling answers in “Don’t Let Her In”, the weird fiction tale called “Pitch-perfect” with “elegant language and ‘missing pieces’ that drew me in and kept me thinking about it afterwards.” [John Fiore]
Hailed as “an exceptionally well written piece with lovely imagery and turns of phrase [. . .] What satisfaction you get out of it will very much depend on how much imagination you are prepared to invest.” [David Blake]
“Gathered beneath the shadow of the Last Tower are all that remains of those who have managed to survive the solar radiation and constant exposure. They shuffle through a half-life of blinding days and sun-drenched nights, but even a half-life is better than the alternative.
They call him the Champ, because unlike those who fell victim to the Fade before him, he came back, and though they cannot be said to truly have a leader, he is the shining beacon of hope that not all can be consumed by the light.
On an unremarkable day, the Sixtieth Floor breaks its silence to call upon the Champ and request his presence in the cool, shadowy bastion overlooking the wastes. Why, on a day like any other, has the Sixtieth Floor called him up? And why has it called no one else? Is the Champ the savior of those below? Can he alone preserve them? Or could there be something far greater hidden at the top of The Last Tower?”
Called “gripping” even in its brevity, The Last Tower “pulls at [the] very cords of human nature” and “with the effortless ease of a hangman [the author] allows us to dangle free, with little to no intent of saving us from our own machinations.” [Everett St. Ivees]