storm clouds—
a drow dismounts
from his steed

thunder clap—
a mountain dwarf adjusts
his gauntlet

driving rain—
a frost giant marches south
toward armies

river’s bulge—
a shield maiden lets down
her golden hair

“’Valcon the Vampire,’” Ted read the title with a smirk then handed the colorfully bordered pages back to Derrick. “Not interested.”
Derrick took back the manuscript with a wounded huff. “But you haven’t even read it.”
“I told you; I get too many stories with vampires, most of them trash. I’m just sick of vampires! How about elves?”
“Santa’s little helpers in quaint green suits?”
“Not that kind of elf.”
“Well, I happen to enjoy a good vampire tale.”
“Then start your own ezine.”
“Give me one advantage elves have over vampires.”
Ted lifted his husky carcass from the office chair. “I’ll give you ten.”
“Great. I’m dying to hear this.” Derrick stood back, allowing…