Denton Salle
Material Scientist, Chemist, Smith, Woodworker, Martial artist, Hunter, and few other things, Denton writes fantasy for fun.
- Indexed issues, last 90 days
- 5
- Latest publication
- Sep 8, 2026
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- Earliest in this view
- Jul 18, 2026
Latest issues
Problem in a Pear Tree 5 (opens the original)
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The next morning, I went to the little diner and got a table. Stephanie, my usual waitress, greeted me and asked, “Are you meeting that gentleman from Austin again?”“No, a young woman from down the road a bit,” I said.She cocked her head like a poodle and stared at me. “Aren’t you doing this backwards? Shouldn’t you meet her for dinner and then take her out for breakfast? Or making her breakfast? No wonder your daddy despairs over you ever getting hitched.”“Shush” I grumbled. “You sound like Dad
Problem in a Pear Tree 4 (opens the original)
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I kept coming back to pear trees, but I couldn’t figure out how that would attract a dragon or a chort. Or any of the other creatures that might like a fire. I had a huge map up in my office, and the areas where we thought the fire started circled. I was sticking pins in where I confirmed pear trees when the sheriff came in.“Any luck?” he asked, holding a brown box.“Yeah, I think I got a lead and you’re not gonna like it,” I said.“If the fires stop, I’m at the point I don’t care if it involves y
Problem in a Pear Tree (opens the original)
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It took me a week to check on his questions. While the fire seemed to start in orchards, it always didn’t. Sometimes they appeared to start in or near houses, and this wasn’t the first time. The last set was seven years ago near Ranger.The seven-year gap should worry you if you know any fairy tales. Not the stupid modern ones but the ones the Grimm bowdlerized or the one your Grandma from the old country told. Be that the mountains of Appalachia, the Baltic Coast, or the Carpathian Rusyn mountai
Problem in a Pear Tree (opens the original)
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The following morning I drove over to my father’s place. This wasn’t where I was raised; that was over in what we called “Little Austin”, a college town with a vibrant music scene and a bunch of progressives ruining it.After Momma got died, he couldn’t stand to be in the big house anymore. He mostly retired and moved here full time. He buried her in the old local graveyard. Well, her body. It gets weird, so let’s leave it at that.Thanks for reading! Subscrib
Working on my less-serious volhk (opens the original)
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A while ago, I did a short story about a deputy in West Texas, who was also a volkh. In that story, which you can find here, he dealt with commie wizards and the fae. These are not your Tolkien elves, nor Correa’s trailer park elves, but something drawing on the older dark traditions. I’ve been playing in that world a bit, and here’s a bit from the current short. I kinda started these ‘cause I did a bit about a restless spirit and an old man, and then I had no idea where to go with it. Anyway, s
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