Other Works
When we're not writing Sages and Infernum, Ellen loves writing fantasy and horror short stories; some have found their way into anthologies. Here are excerpts of stories that have been published.
Fantasy
Arson and Fate
He wasn’t going to find anything good here, not before Davids came back, and he would get plenty of money for the arson job itself. Isach didn’t have a flint and steel on him, but he didn’t need one. Instead, he snapped his fingers, sending out a spark that burst into flame upon contact with the wood surface of the dining table.
But that was just the start. He didn’t want anyone coming in early and ending his fire before it could get going, so he moved to the front door and set it ablaze with the heat of his palm. Wooden broom in the corner? Those bristles looked flammable. Snap, another spark from his hand. What a disgusting rug. Time to scorch it. Isach grinned. As long as he kept the back entrance clear, he could set fire to whatever–
“Hello? Is someone there?” A muffled, high-pitched voice echoed from somewhere in the house.
Isach’s blood ran cold despite the growing heat.
Featured in the Storiaverse App
Red-Eyed Devil
It was the last bitter day of winter when the Shurin wandered into the rural town of Havenledge.
Dry, crusted blood coated the right side of her face. Ripped clothes hung loose on her thin frame. Her eyes, half-lidded, gazed incomprehensibly at her surroundings.
Townspeople stopped and stared. None approached her.
Siena had just stepped out of the general store when she caught sight of the girl, and she chewed her lip as she watched. She had never seen a Shurin before, only heard of them through history and rumors, but the girl's deep red irises were unmistakable.
The Shurin staggered then collapsed into the mud. The townspeople began to mutter among themselves.
Featured in Summer of Sci-Fi & Fantasy, Vol. 1
Horror
The Tree Man at Fort Rock
Across the street, where the town bordered on the woods, stood a man.
Watching her.
He was too far away to make out clearly, and although he was tall, he stood crookedly, with limbs at odd angles like branches of the trees around him. Pieces of his clothes fluttered in the wind like tattered rags. His sickly pale skin, with little more than thin white wisps for hair, sat in stark contrast to the growing shadows around him. His eyes were wide, unblinking, and seemed to bore into her from afar.
She reached for--for what, pepper spray? Her cell phone? Both were in her purse, in the house, and when she looked back, the man was gone.