Verum Et Inventa Issue 04 is now available

*** This title was re-released recently and reformatted with Linux LibreOffice. ***

About this series: Verum Et Inventa is a free e-zine focusing on dark fantasy, horror and science fiction. We’re open to contributions from writers and readers who like substance and style over the blander mainstream norm. The editor will also provide controversy with articles and media reviews meant to incite the intellect of those open-minded enough to question traditional paradigms, social constructs and religious dogma. If you consider yourself Awake and enjoy a good story, why not download a copy today?

In issue No. 4, for February 2019: The conclusion for Non-Retrieval. Following this are 6 medieval fantasy entries from Tales From The Savage Lands, Books 1 and 2. Also included is the erotic short story Attack Of The Six Foot Vagina, and this month’s Story Starter piece I Saw Their Faces. Articles include How I Started Writing Erotica and Mithras, Precursor Of Jesus. Rating: HIGH controversy.

*** The article Mithras, Precursor Of Jesus will be posted soon on the sister blog Verum Et Inventa. Link to the blog here. ***

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A paragraph or two from each of this issue’s stories:

Non-Retrieval Part 5 (science fiction)

“Hold still a sec.” Rubalcava said. He stepped behind me, rummaged through my pack. A minute later, he handed me a small flashlight. “Here you go.”

“Thanks.”

The focused beams of light led us over the dark landscape. I could see plenty of Wehnteweisell all around us as we walked. Some of these were curious enough to stretch their leaves out to touch us on the arms or back. Rarely did they reach out for our heads, as if they held some sort of special respect for that part of the body.

Lady Martin’s Manor Part 1 (fantasy)

“They tell me that that the children go insane here.” The soldier of fortune with the red hair commented in a low voice. “Have you ever heard of such a thing?”

Timehre of the Red Fold sipped a drink from his mug. “This ale is so diluted with water I am insane for having purchased it.”

The redhead Otto chuckled. “This settlement is less than a village. The men went insane first, and then the women. Now only the children are left for whatever darkness there is here to prey upon. You’re a well-traveled man. Is it possible for curses to only afflict children?”

The Devil’s Vagina (fantasy)

It was a typical night at the Brouhaha Tavern in Wantonbury. People were fighting everywhere. It was bad enough that some of the more rough and tumble sorts were buying insurance at the door, so they wouldn’t have to pay a full price to the quartet of magic healers employed by the house.

The capable Tihmere, formerly of the Red Fold, sat with his sidekick Andre, a man who had once been employed by the Church but who’d abandoned his post as a soldier and run off. Actually, Tim had his own troubles with the clergy, but after a successful recovery of many sacred relics and a goodly amount of wealth, both men had paid their hefty fines and were forgiven by the holy men of the red cloth. Tim and Andre were now free of legal obligation and debt, and still held enough wealth to carouse at a fairly lavish place such as the Brouhaha.

The next round of trouble started quickly, in the corner most heavily populated by wenches and their clients. Three buffoons had thought it wise to grope a woman and to sex her there on a table, wanting to avoid the room fee the tavern charged for having the service upstairs. The prostitute raised up a clamor, as they always do thanks to their guild rules, and the security staff dressed in blue came to quell the matter.

Ben Finds The In-Between Place Part 1 (fantasy)

“I tell you, this village was not here before.” The old Eastern mage said, anxiously. “From the ether it came. From the nothing.”

“How can you be sure the village wasn’t here before?” Trad asked.

“I traveled this way many times to reach High Mountain.” Goony explained. “I always followed the stream. There were no villages for many miles.”

“It’s here now.” Trad said, stepping over to knock on a beam holding up an old awning. “And it’s not an illusion.”

The Wrong Inn (fantasy)

“Run faster!” The tall barbarian woman demanded.

The two minor mages were terrified of Garra. The barbarian had been mad at Orissi ever since the battle with the necromancer, where the mage’s foolishness had caused all three of them to get sucked into the other-dimensional trap. Garra had slapped, punched and even kicked Orissi, hard enough to lift the slender woman off the ground at times. Alery, the ice mage, wasn’t faring any better. His big mistake was trying to get between Garra and the Oriental woman one time too many. Instead of beating only Orissi, the big woman was now taking her anger out on both of them.

At the moment, they had something other than the barbarian’s giant fists to worry about. Several very large and hairy hulks that had come out of the forest were loping after them. Garra thought they were upright bears at first, as they looked to move both on two or four feet when they wanted to. Thanks to the full moonlight, however, the runners caught a glimpse of the monsters’ faces. They had human features underneath all that facial hair.

I Saw Their Faces (horror, science fiction)

Tough guys aren’t supposed to scream. But all around me, I heard screams. I’m not talking about short, manly growls like you might hear in an action movie. I mean, long, drawn out, emasculated shrieks that change pitches and keep spewing out of panic-stricken throats… And they keep going too, going forever, like they should have ended already, but they refuse and keep rattling around in your head. Like they know, they know it’s the last time the lungs making those screams will ever utter another sound again. That last scream, or howl, or shriek, it has to make an impression. It has to count for something, because once it’s gone, it ain’t coming back.

Attack Of The Six Foot Vagina (humor, science fiction)

What do you think it is? It’s a giant vagina! Run, you asshole, run!”

Let me tell you something. I’m not a man who runs, but that night, by Jove, I was running, running like a man with a red scarf and a white shirt in Barcelona, when they let the bulls go on their annual stampede. Letting those bulls go like that, and stirring them up ahead of time, that’s madness, I tell you. And what I saw that night, well, that was madness too.

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