Fantasy and Fellowship is a newsletter sharing weekly micro-fantasies, filled with deep and expansive lore, that deliver a 1,000-page “adventure high” in under 60 seconds—no novel-length commitment required. If you want to read, write, and learn more about the business of short-form fantasy fiction, this is for you.
Fulmination
By J. Louis
Laurent stabbed at the heavens with his sword, daring them to lash out.
The storm’s claws raked at him; rain pelted his face and frigid winds bit through his cloak. The old Sage wouldn’t teach him fulmination? Fine. He’d learn it himself—the hard way, if needed.
“How much longer do you plan on standing out there?” The Sage watched him from the cottage’s doorway, wrapped in a quilt. His raspy voice struggled against the roar of the wind.
“As long as it takes,” Laurent shouted. “Until I catch a lightning bolt!”
“Don’t be daft, boy,” the Sage said. “The only thing you’ll catch is a cold. Come. I’ve got a roast on the spit. But if you’d rather freeze to death out here… Well, more for me.”
Laurent looked at the blade in his hand, then back at his master, and his entire body grew cold, as if the late spring chill had seeped into his bones. What was he thinking, trying to call down the storm’s wrath on himself? He shook his head and dropped the weapon to the ground.
“That’s it, lad,” the Sage said, tossing him the quilt. “We’ll talk more about fulmination in the morning.”
Laurent nodded. As he stepped one foot across the threshold, a sound like ripped parchment crept down from the skies above, and a whip-crack exploded in his ears. A wave of static washed over him, and the next thing he knew, he lay sprawled on the floor of the cabin, nostrils full of smoke and shadows dancing in his vision. A terrible ringing rattled inside his head, and his heart threatened to leap right out of his chest.
The old Sage stood over him, wrapped in a protective barrier, a wry smile on his face. He leaned down and extended a hand.
“On second thought,” Laurent said, his voice muffled and distant, as if disconnected from his body. “Let’s forget fulmination for now.”
Reflection questions
Let’s get the conversation going in the comments based on these questions (straight from The Microfiction Method):
How can you use the first sentence of your next story to make it a real page-turner?
Are there opportunities for you to use juxtaposition to bring out your story’s strongest elements?
How can you use the sensory details (sight, sound, touch, taste, and smell) to paint a rich environment?
Go ahead and use these questions to analyze this story (or one of your own) in the comments. And be sure to keep your answers to these questions in mind as you continue with your own writing.
From the prompt vault
Next, it’s your turn!
Write a short story based on the word: fulmination.
Or, you know, electricity, or lightning, or whatever. Write a story that’s shocking! Electrifying! Where the character gets hit by a good zap, or does the zapping. Electricity, and especially the kind generated by these crazy thunderstorms (like the ones we get around Kentucky this time of year), is no laughing matter, and it can be a force to be reckoned with.
If you use this prompt, be sure to share it in the comments and restack this post so more writers can get in on the fun.
In case you missed it…
Like this story? Check out my last one here:
For some strategies on scraping together more writing time, check out the latest in Why Short Form:
And if you’re curious about the business of fiction writing, you can check out this latest (paid) post here:
That’s all for how. Stay tuned for more updates, stories, and more.
And above all else… keep it fantastic.
Cheers all, and happy writing.
— Josh
🚨 P.S. Did you know I wrote a book?🚨
The Microfiction Method is now available for your reading and writing pleasure! It’s full of resources to help you achieve your most productive writing year yet.
There’s so much packed into this book, including daily writing prompts, a habit tracker, reflective questions, short stories, essays… You name it, it’s probably here. If you pick it up, I’d love to hear your thoughts.
Calling on lightening… yikes!
A lighthearted treatment of a potentially deadly phenomenon. You’ve done that well.
Your words paint a picture I see as a video of this scene. It made me laugh!
Two Ships In A Growing Storm
Kids playing in the park. People holding meaningful discussions. Debates sound and respectful. Families enjoying a beautiful day in the warm sun.
Sam sensed the explosion before he saw it first hand. He looked around incredulous as everything evaporated quickly. It was as if lightning grew from nothing, demanding its dirty ions to denounce the peaceful resolutions that had been occurring in the sunshine. Suddenly explosive tirades assaulted the calmness. Voices rose to unexpected levels, exalting and condemning inarticulate thoughts that weaved their way through his five senses rendering him static in disbelief. Bodies flew through the air in repulsed formations, delivering physical tirades on tired souls. All respect was gone in the world.
“Sacrilege,” voices cried out, cursing the outburst in tongues not fit for a moral man to hear.
“Pompous fools must stand up for what is right,” demanded another voice before it was vehemently discharged.
Sam stood in disbelief staring at the carnage before him.
“Do we change, adapt the worst of the past making it more unthreatening and commonplace?” Sam wondered as armaments rained down on him. “Is this how man succeeds?”
“Sam,” a quiet voice rose from the obloquy. “Are you alright?”
Sam blinked twice, focusing on the noises of children playing in the park. He looked at the adults in serious discussion before returning his gaze to his fiance who was sitting quietly with concerned eyes.
“You were looking scared. Your eyes were way out there,” she continued.
“The idea of personal growth only extends as far as one's comfort level. To push any work or idea past that faces rejection as being “weird or out there,” Sam said, replying to her question before all this started. “I hope this was an untrue vision,” he thought quietly. “This one was really a stretch. I need to write it down.”
“What?” Melanie asked. “Ideas being weird or out there? What are you talking about?”
Sam looked into her eyes as he took her hand. “I am fine. We are here. Happiness is surrounding us.” He counted to three. “I had a vision.”
Melanie gasped, startled. “Another vision?” Her eyes became laser attentive.
Sam looked away towards the kites flying and listened to the laughter across the field. “People don’t like change. Change begats uncertainty. Uncertainty is chaos for people.”
“I hope this is not like your last vision.” She looked at him with concern. “You are talking in riddles. Explain what ‘uncertainty is chaos’ means?”
He smiled glumly. “If my vision is true then we are looking at bad times ahead. Some people can’t live up to their words.” He thought for a second. “People crave a common ground where they feel comfortable. Upset that comfort and they rebel in blistering ways. This vision is worse than any other. Much worse. I hope it doesn’t come true but I have a feeling about it.”
"Let's go home,” she said as she rose, still holding his hand.
He reflected on his vision. “We may need to find another park to hang out at. I’m done with this one.”
They walked quietly along the path, two ships in a growing storm.