Welcome to Rainbow Snippets!
Every Saturday or Sunday, those participating post and share six sentences of LGBTQIA+ fiction on their blogs. It can be their own. It can be someone else’s. It just needs to be LGBTQIA+.
To read a wide variety of samples from LGBTQIA+ stories, go to…
All right, I promised Quartz I’d give him an extra long snippet this Saturday in return for short-changing him last Saturday, especially since I may be switching to my NaNoWriMo project, My Tool, My Treasure the Saturday after this one. In the meantime, here’s a generous taste of Quartz’s Work in Progress, Of Cuckoo Clocks and Crystal Coffins…
Stealing a moment to “commune with the crystals” as Opal would have called it, I laid down my axe just for a moment.
Most of my brothers were busy in various parts of mine, digging out, sorting, and polishing the sort of stones a lot of human were too fool to recognize the value of.
Those who weren’t would pay handsomely for what we had to offer.
I pressed my face against the stone, palms against its cool roughness. Aye, it was a beauty, this many-faced quartz. Would have sliced my hands if I’d been human. Dwarves are made of sturdier stuff. Legends says we were once part of rock and stone. We could endure their touch like few other living beings.
This particular namestone of mine had several faces which were clear and bright. Others offered glimpses of murky, inner landscapes.
Now mind you, I don’t mind murk. Often it’s a unique quality within a quartz, part of its character. This one had a cut, slashing with deliberate malice through its inner structure, interrupting the natural energy flow. Its rhythm moved at a sluggish pace, skipping here and there, due to the flaw.
Had someone done this on purpose? Who would do such a thing?
“Communing with the earth’s bones?” Opal’s voice drew me out of the quartz.
“I told you not to do that.” I glared at the brother who was the eldest of my six siblings after myself, turning the ire of my bristing brows upon him.
“Right. Because meditating in the mines makes so much more sense than working.” Opal smoothed his whiskers, nose wrinkling in an utter lack of appreciation.