Tales of Magic and Misery is a collection of short stories spanning my career, from the Demon Squad to my attempts at horror, all the way to my most recent creations, including a sneak peak into the Tales of a Prodigy world. As a bonus, Tales of Magic and Misery will include stories from a number of other authors, giving readers a peek into new worlds. Alongside a never before released story by C.L. Werner ToMM includes: Armand Rosamilia, Nathaniel Connors, Adrian Collins, Danielle Ackley-McPhail, R.B. Wood, N.X. Sharps, Daniel Weaver, Amanda Shore, Glenn Hefley, Chris Garrett, GR Matthews, and J. Cameron McClain. Below is an exceprt of Evilution, a never before released short story I'd written a couple years back.
The sun split the cracks between the skyscrapers while spears of light pierced the gloom. Morgan shielded his eyes as a musky breeze whipped past, vying to steal his breath. The rigid solidness of the wall at his back felt miles away. His feet swung from the ledge.
Tomorrow was reclamation day. If they had their way, this would be the last dawn he would ever see.
Morgan pulled his gaze from the streaked, magenta sky and looked past his dangling boots. A dozen stories below, the roaches of society scurried about their morning rituals across the blackened carcass of the road. He could barely hear their passage. The wind conspired against his ears and threatened to yank him from the ledge. Morgan wondered if he should let it.
He drew up short at the thought, derailing the morbid feeling with thoughts of Karen. Though she was gone, little more than a memory of a life that had long since turned to ash, she was the only happiness he could still recall. Morgan clutched to the fleeting images of her crystalline eyes, the dimples that creased her cheeks when she laughed, the spattering of freckles across her nose. For that moment, she was his once more. His heart skipped and sputtered as he breathed a weary sigh. It was all a lie.
The whispers in his head carried on without fail, nothing to indicate his momentary lapse had been identified. The garbled transmission chattered incessantly, transmitting encoded bits of his being into space where a satellite parsed and cataloged his every emotion. He had no doubt the EMPs would have spammed him with endorphins had they sensed his mood and correlated his location but he felt nothing. Morgan loosed a ragged chuckle.
The coyote had told him how to deceive the sensors, how to stay off the radar until they could outfit him with a blocking device, but he hadn’t believed something so simple would fool the chip embedded within his spine. Perhaps there was still some hope to be had. He wouldn’t have imagined it just weeks before.
Three years on the public dole, reclamation loomed.