Author: JD Edwin

JD Edwin is your average worshipper of strange things. She splits her time between working full time, writing fiction both long and short, and creating digital and traditional artwork. You can find more information on her writing and future projects at jdedwin.com, and follow her on Facebook and Twitter (@JDEdwinAuthor).

My Master’s Robes

May 4, 2017 by JD Edwin Drama, Fantasy, Hot 1 Comment

Some days my master’s robes smell like fresh flowers and clean linens. Those are my favorite days, when I lay out his robes and run my fingers over the yards and yards of thick, black fabric, feeling its softness and smelling its deep, wonderful smells. Sometimes I try them on, though they are too long for me and hang well past my feet. They are pleasantly cool, like him.

Some days my master’s robes smell like fire, like soot and embers. Some days they smell acrid, like chemicals set out too long. Some days they are damp and smell like decay. Those days I like less. One those days I gently remove his robes when he returns home and wash them, then hang them to dry in the sun.

My master is a quiet man who touches many people but speaks to few. He is feared and loathed and his presence to every party is a dreaded one. He is unwelcome to any occasion, cursed at every turn, and shooed away at every chance. But because he is kind and just, he allows the harsh words of others to easily roll away and does his duty without missing a beat. He serves the people, though they do not give him the slightest hint of thanks. Day after day, I help him shrug into his long robes and off he goes to his work, where he is greeted with curses and tears and hateful words. Then he comes home, and I clean his robes for the next day.

Traders — Patricia’s Decision

April 13, 2017 by JD Edwin Drama, Hot, Magical Realism 0 Comments

My alarm buzzes at 4:30am as it always does. I get out of bed and paint. I start with titanium white.

Lucy wakes at 6:30. I hear her stirring in her bed through the baby monitor, but do not go to her. She can keep herself entertainined for nearly twenty minutes on a good day, but Isaac will be on the move the moment he is out of bed and he usually wakes around the same time. John should be stirring, too. I start the coffee maker and return to my easel in the corner of the dining room. I paint until I hear Lucy yelling.

Isaac is already banging around in the bathroom. I hear him brushing his teeth. He is eight going on thirty, and I often catch him reading a book over his breakfast cereal and talking to John about his plans for the day like they’re buddies heading to the salt mines. John is up, too. He kisses me good morning. We leave Isaac to his routine and go to Lucy’s room.

Sinning For Dummies

March 31, 2017 by JD Edwin Holidays, Hot, Speculative Fiction 0 Comments

The salesman behind the counter was an old lizard. He tapped his claws on the counter as she pulled aside the curtain of iridescent beads to peek into the shop, yellow eyes blinking in interest. She supposed she wasn’t his usual clientele.

“Here to see my wares, little lady?” he asked, straightening. The shop smelled like incense and dried flowers, though she saw neither as she stepped inside gingerly, beads clattered behind her. The tiny space was cramped even before she entered. The wall to her right held a calendar starring kittens in various adorable positions. The counter was to her left, behind which stood the old lizard. And behind him, boxes of all shapes and sizes were crammed into cubbyholes, filling the wall floor to ceiling.

“What’s your name, love?” There was slight unnerving hiss to his voice.

Wonderless

March 23, 2017 by JD Edwin Drama, Fantasy, Hot, Magical Realism 0 Comments

The thing that showed up on Thursday evening had six sticky appendages and a lot of eyes. It marched straight into town center and started wrapping itself around the capitol building. Every station is broadcasting it while I work overtime trying to finish the paperwork for month-end close.

Just your average weekday.

Everyone on the accounting team is huddling in the break room, drinking mugs of coffee or tea or sipping from flasks snuck in and watching the flat-screen TV, which is currently showing the six-armed horror trying its best to make origami out of Fourth Street.

“You coming, Bonnie?”

Stacy Mckee is peering at me from her cube, with that look she always has when she knows I’m going to say no. I say no every time, but she keeps asking. She likes to tell everyone I said no so they can start their usual remarks about me. They have a lot of remarks about me.

Blind Faith

January 25, 2017 by JD Edwin 2016 Winter Writing Contest, Hot, Humor, Science Fiction 0 Comments

The tattoo on his left arm reads, in glaring large letters, RACIST AND PROUD.

The henna on his right is a lotus. It will not stay forever, though today that does not matter. He has had it renewed countless times in the past decade. The delicate design serves as a reminder of the lessons he has learned.

“Inner peace is not everlasting,” says his mentor. “Nor is it to be taken for granted. Many strive to achieve it, but so few hold on to it when they do. It’s easy to let chaos invade you, steer you off your path, drive you away from the door to heaven.”

He nods. These are all words he hears daily, but he savors them nonetheless. The stone floor is cold beneath their thin cushions, made colder by the drafts of wind singing through the canyons just outside the temple. He is bare from the waist up but despite the frost forming over the drops of morning dew, he does not feel the chill. This, too, is the result of found peace.

WingTips

August 26, 2016 by JD Edwin 2016 5th Anniversary Contest, Hot 0 Comments

The angel on his shoulder died on a cloudy Tuesday morning. He found her unmoving on the pillow next to him when he woke for work and discovered his left shoulder much too light.

He took the day off to purchase a simple pine box from a specialty shop that sold this sort of thing and lined it with lavender silk and white lilac flowers. He arranged her hands over her chest, fingers laced as if in prayer. Her canary-yellow wings he gently pulled open and spread upward, as if she was about to take off in flight. Such tasks were not required of him, but he felt that after all their years together – business relationship as it may be – calling a service to simply cart her away would be much too impersonal.