Spotlight: Jens Morrison

Writing Prompt Twenty-Seven: The distance was trivial on paper, but the expanse of an entire sea kept me from her golden hair and violet eyes. My lips grew bitter from the journey.
"You're thinking out loud again" she said, from the other side of the puddle.
"Drat! Curse these seas, I shall have my woman!" I cried, as I dove into the merciless seas.
"Your mom is going to be mad that you're all muddy." she said, giggling at my ragged state.
"I shall face a thousand days of rebuke from mighty Hera, if it means one more second to spend with you."
She just rolled her eyes at that. Though my love flowed forth like a mountain spring, pure and unending, her own was less forthcoming.
I knew she cared, for she stayed with me, but at times I wondered. Did she care for me in the way a woman loves a man, or as a nurse might care for an insane old man. I was never sure.
She stopped, turned, and glared at me. Before I could open my mouth to speak, she smacked me on the top of the head.
"You're doing it again." She said before running off towards home.
I sat for a moment, stunned by her beauty, before beginning my own trudge towards the hellfires I was taught to call home. I would endure endless rage from Hera, and Zeus, before being thrown in the dungeon, where I would sleep and dream blissfully of my beloved, before being briefly reunited with her at school. Then the daily cycle would repeat, as it always does.
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Writing Prompt Tewnty-Six: Three steps up the clay stairs to a cobalt blue door. A brass knocker, a brass door knob. And, inside, the man who stole my bag.
He had thought I followed him to retrieve it, when in fact, I had followed him with the hopes of seeing his face, upon opening it.' she thought to herself.
With a loud woosh, the cobalt blue door, the brass knocker and knob, the clay steps, and the building they were all connected to vanished into a swirling hole of nothingness.
"Silly mortals shouldn't interfere in the business of their gods." she said aloud, to nobody in particular. All around her there was chaos as people tried to search for survivors, or figure out what happened. She easily slipped away back into the crowd and vanished.
Her bag had been inconsequential, and the contents could be remade easily enough. The lesson it taught however, would be learned ad infinitum by those responsible for it's theft.
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Writing Prompt Fifteen: The laughter of young girls in flight, the clicking of their shoes on the cobblestone of the square, the swish of their taffeta skirts rocked me back from my coffee into the terror of revolution.
So I picked up my musket, aimed it at the rebellious schoolgirls, and fired! "YOU CAN TAKE OUR FREEDOM, BUT YE'LL NEVER TAKE OUR PONIES" I cried, as I fired another shot.

They kept coming though. Giggling all the while. With their ribbons. Their deadly, deadly, ribbons. I'd seen many a man lose his life, wrapped up like a Maypole. The giggling was near enough to drive us men insane, but I kept reloading, hoping to go down fighting.

It was not to be however, as the two girls were just a distraction. I only saw the cotton candy after it was too late. In the end, the world was strawberry.
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A word from Jens Morrison:
Greetings from Vesevia!

I'm a writer of short stories. I can't manage anything more than that, but I like most of the short stories I can manage to write. I like Scifi, Fantasy, Mythology, and everything in between.

Everything I write is set in my fictional world, Vesevia. It has magic, technology, various races, gods (that interact with the world on a daily basis), etc. The setting spans a great deal of time, from stone to space.

I usually inject a bit of humor into my writings as well. One of the gods of Vesevia, is Bacon. The god of Bacon. Bacon created the Piglings, cannibalistic pigmen that chase each other, and especially outsiders, with butcher knives.

Also, I had a story featured in a magazine! +TYPEFACE Literary Magazine ran my story "A Girl With No Hiccups" in it's first issue.