Rae Fairchild (MRB)
Bio
I love to write; putting pen to paper fills my heart and calms my soul!
Rae Fairchild is my pen name. (Because why not? Pseudonyms are cool!)
I do publish elsewhere under my real name, Mary Rae Butler. (Fairchild, an old family surname.)
Stories (70/0)
The Noah Initiative
Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. And even if I were not in space, still no one would be able to hear me. I can’t scream when my mind has been detached from my body. My consciousness can yell as loud as it wants, but when my body lays motionless in a regenerative chamber, no sound emits from my mouth. The only people that could hear me were the others in the collective mind. For their bodies, too, lay motionless in chambers of their own. In my mind, I could feel them staring at me and hear them murmuring amongst themselves as I screamed. Slowly, the giant spaceship rotated as more pods were jettisoned. My pod, along with another, ratcheted closer and closer to the launch point.
By Rae Fairchild (MRB)2 years ago in Fiction
A Train Ticket to the Fourth Dimension . Top Story - August 2022.
Her forehead was cold, pressed against something hard. She could hear voices around her, unfamiliar voices. Opening her eyes, she quickly shut them again. There was so much light coming in from all directions. She opened her eyes again, this time a little slower. Her face was pushed up to a glass window, which was fogging up with her breath. Her head began to pound as she sat up. Dizzy, she reached out and put one hand on the pane.
By Rae Fairchild (MRB)2 years ago in Fiction
A Three-Salad Summer
I longed for summer, dreamed of it the whole rest of the year, because the summer was free and fun. I escaped from school, and didn’t have to return for almost three months. I potted flowers with my mother and tended to the garden with my grandfather. My cousins and I spent the scorching summer days submerged in an enticingly cool backyard pool. In the evenings, we danced with sparklers and ignited small fireworks in my grandparent’s roadside mailbox, the little booms amplified and echoed by the steel. There were numerous rusted holes in the bottom of that mailbox from too many mini explosions. We compiled packing lists for our yearly camping trip and planned out menus for family gatherings.
By Rae Fairchild (MRB)2 years ago in Feast
Wielder of Magic and Rider of Fire
There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. The Elders say that dragons had arisen in a far away wild land and traveled over vast forests, rolling plains, and lands dotted blue with lakes. They traversed the kingdoms of men, and from the shores of the Unending Terra, flew across the sea. Their journey was not easy, for that great expanse of water was often angry, full of violent storms. Finally, they reached land, descending from mountains capped in clouds. Below lay the verdant Valley, lush, and full of life. Here, from the foothills, rives flowed into endless meadows and tall forests stretched as far as the eye could see. This Valley lay in the heart of the Realm, a world where magic abounded. Upon the dragons’ backs, sat the Fire Riders, noble warriors of men, whose skill and strength in battle were surpassed by none living. Some Elders even say that these were no ordinary men, that they were the spirits of dragons themselves, trapped in human form. Steed and soldier perched in the rocky outcroppings of the mountainsides, surveying the Valley below, looking for what would earn them their promised gold. Exzaeless, a king corrupt with greed, had sent them, wanting the magic that was rumored to be here.
By Rae Fairchild (MRB)2 years ago in Fiction
The Grade-School Project Gone Horribly Wrong
Dear Mom, Do you remember back, way back, when I was in sixth grade? Of course you do; you have a memory like a steel trap. It was the class project for Open House, you know, when all the students would put together a presentation, and the parents would walk through the different classrooms and look at what the grades created. Our teacher decided that the sixth grade was going to do a presentation on the major rivers of the world. You remember that teacher, the bimbo blond, the one that gave me the role of “adult movie star” in a murder-solving class play. (That’s a crazy story for another day.) You did not like her one bit and that’s okay; I wasn’t fond of her either. She had her favorites, and I was definitely not one of them.
By Rae Fairchild (MRB)2 years ago in Families