Eolas Pellor
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eolaspellor.bsky.social
Eolas Pellor
@eolaspellor.bsky.social
1.8K followers 2.2K following 1.3K posts
Author. Born in the UK, grew up in Canada. Earned 4 degrees. Taught for nearly 3 decades. Writing seriously since 2023.
https://sites.google.com/view/eolaspellorwriter/home#h.tarw5zu9jdl5
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eolaspellor.bsky.social
Eolas Pellor @eolaspellor.bsky.social · Aug 26
Do you like ghost stories?

Do you like stories where the ghost is searching for something?

My short story "Suffer Little Children" has just been published in the anthology "Pocket Full of Posies: Shadow Children."

Paperback: www.lulu.com/shop/parth-s...

ePub: www.lulu.com/shop/parth-s...
Pocket Full of Posies: Shadow Children
Innocence turned to ash... Lullabies that rot into screams... Shadows that will not let the living go... Pocket Full of Posies is an extended requiem in three volumes, where the voices of the dead wi...
www.lulu.com
eolaspellor.bsky.social
#WIP #WritingCommunity #WorkInProgess #WriteSky
November 23, 2025 at 6:55 PM
Reposted by Eolas Pellor
kleighdiaz.bsky.social
#WIPSnips | crystal

🌊

From my post-apocalyptic #WIP w/ a misfit trio of kids.

#WritingCommunity #WriteSky #amwriting
Writing snippet: She stood staring out at the crashing waves for a long time. She wasn't sure what she'd expected—crystal-clear water lapping at her ankles, warm and soothing, welcoming her with whatever secrets it held on its salty breath. This water was cold. She could tell without touching it. And some small part of her knew that if she waded in, she would never leave. Shrimp slipped his hand into hers and looked up at her. “Well, it ain't exactly what I thought,” she said, watching the gray waves slosh. “But it's still beautiful in its own way, isn't it?”
November 22, 2025 at 9:14 AM
eolaspellor.bsky.social
This is important… health, like education, child care, and care for the elderly, is too important to leave it up to people more interested in investors than patients.
educatedvoters.bsky.social Educated Voters @educatedvoters.bsky.social · 7d
A new analysis from the Canadian Centre for Policy Alternatives looked at 25 countries and found those with more privatized health care fared worse on seven mortality indicators. The report comes as several provinces pursue privatizing some health-care services.

#cdnpoli #skpoli
Study links health-care privatization with higher mortality rates
A new analysis from the Canadian Centre for Policy Alternatives looked at 25 countries and found those with more privatized health care fared worse on seven mortality indicators. The report comes as s...
www.cbc.ca
November 22, 2025 at 4:31 PM
Reposted by Eolas Pellor
joehumphrey.bsky.social
The #WIPSnips word for November 22nd is "crystal" #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts

I have to explain something about this. I have a mutual on here named Crystal, and I want to say that Winnie's feelings about the name Crystal do not reflect my own. Winnie's just in a mood.
In my head, I congratulated myself for not bringing up George’s online girlfriend. The one whose name I knew but had never wanted to learn anything more about. Her name was Crystal, by the way. When I thought about her name being Crystal, I wondered if she was a stripper or a call girl or an OnlyFans model or what. I couldn’t imagine someone named Crystal would have a regular job. I wasn’t jealous, or even curious. I just don’t like the name Crystal. Not for the name of the woman my husband is having an affair with. Deborah is a solid name. It sounds foundational, like it’s made of hard stone. Which is ironic considering a crystal is literally a stone.
November 22, 2025 at 11:53 AM
Reposted by Eolas Pellor
acturek.bsky.social
#WIPSnips #fantasy #WritingCommunity #WriteSky #crystal

Trouble with the Work; the try failed. This crystal is more difficult to awaken than they’d hoped.
POV: Drisal.

- Brother’s Keeper, book one of my fantasy WIP about two brothers bound by a misunderstood power.
"It either works or it doesn't. Let me see." He settled a tremorous hand on Drisal's shoulder, gently as a bird alighting. All that had come before remained, and the cauldron expanded. Drisal reeled in the stew. His heart raced, that heat trickled in. There was no help for his tears, no help for the livid anguish swirling around and filling him. This, this was real. This was right. And much sooner than it seemed, he felt that which gave meaning to it all, which was the meaning of it all. Love, such love amid the grief, entwining with the rest. The light in the room brightened; the CRYSTAL flashed with a promise of golden hues as Rushak finished his assessment. The illusion faded with his words the instant he took his hand away. "Let's get it done. It must be what it must be." Brother's Keeper A.C. Turek
November 22, 2025 at 12:51 PM
Reposted by Eolas Pellor
professoremily.bsky.social
#WIPSnips #writingcommunity #writers #writesky

Well I have been kinda taking a break from Mireia snips lately, but considering the main source of magic power in Atalantis is crystals... here we are 😅

Mireia's first time using a kaana crystal, from Book 1 of my #Atlantis trilogy.
Still holding the crystal aloft, Mireia closed her eyes, digging deep inside herself. She stoked the fire of her anger, of her determination to escape, of her will to see this room destroyed. She dove deep into that desire as though she were diving into the sea. She let go of herself and became a droplet in the ocean of her own focused will. In her mind she conjured a clear image of the wall before her dissolving—breaking apart into a million particles, which would break into a million more, which would shatter into nothing. The wall itself, she suddenly thought, was like the sea: not a single object, but a mass of infinitely small droplets that could be scattered and evaporated like water. That was all the whole world was, she saw. Every tree and rock and wave and building and person. Just uncountable clusters of droplets bumping against droplets, that could all be broken down and reshaped however she pleased. And beyond this world—beyond the walls of reality—there were other worlds, all made of droplets, all only droplets themselves in a vast sea of universes. And through it all, there was a current that flowed—a bloodstream. It was the same current now running between her body and that crystal. It was a snaking river that threaded the worlds together like beads on a string. It wove and sang and gusted through all the spaces between the droplets, and Mireia was the sail that could catch it. The energy was pulsing through her body, circulating through her veins. “There is no wall,” she declared, and her voice sounded low and strange, as if it belonged to someone else. “It’s only droplets. There is no wall! It’s only droplets!” A small light sparked to life inside the crystal.
November 22, 2025 at 1:59 PM
Reposted by Eolas Pellor
tlmatson.bsky.social
It'd been hot &fast, but his gaze held something so soft. A longing that wld never be satisfied against a brick wall behind an arena.I saw myself, reflected the way he saw me.Like glass.Not the kind to shatter.But in a way which showed his fear that anything he said might see me break him. #WIPSnips
November 22, 2025 at 2:13 PM
eolaspellor.bsky.social
#WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts

“Crystal” is the word today.
A photo of a passage of text that reads: A perfect ring the portal stood six feet high in the centre, a perfect, circular opening built of worked stone, that had never known the bite of metal. Each block slotted to fit tightly between the stone below and the stone above, so that no wind, nor tremor of the earth, nor even a vandal’s hand might cast them down. The portal was built of blocks of grey dolomite, undistinguishable from the broken rock found all around it. There was no crystal or rare gem in them to mark them off as something special, yet they reverberated with a peculiar energy, that emanated out into the surrounding woods. Whoever, or whatever, had set stone on stone had trapped a frightful resonance in them, so that even the moss and lichen that grew on the outer side of the stone portal grew smaller and more tenuous as they neared the inner surface, withering as the magic or energy that pulsed in the circle blasted them, and never spore nor rhizoid could find purchase there.
November 22, 2025 at 2:46 PM
Reposted by Eolas Pellor
garys79.bsky.social
NO MORE BILLIONAIRES
November 21, 2025 at 11:08 PM
Reposted by Eolas Pellor
m-walshwrites.com
#amwriting #WIPsnips #WritingCommunity #WriteSky
Without warning, sharp pain struck the back of her leg. She found one of the boys digging into her calf with his knife. Despite the instinct to retaliate, she only stumbled into another dagger in her back. She grunted in pain and almost fell to the ground as the remaining children swarmed her. “Do be quick. Mommy wants to be on her way.” Panic hit when a dozen knives came at Lily from every direction. More cuts to her legs and the slippery snow made her knees buckle. Before she could react, they were on top of her with shiny blades. They flickered and flashed in the sunlight like stars. She struggled to cover her head and chest but could only scream as her blood stained the snow.
November 21, 2025 at 5:17 PM
Reposted by Eolas Pellor
jangoeswriting.bsky.social
Dedication to one’s job, or a singularly useless talent …

From ‘Reign, Dear’.

#WiPSnips
Despite all his best efforts, including nudging the guard’s arm with his elbow and saying in his most persuasive voice ‘Go on. No-one will notice’, pointing in some random direction and shouting ‘What the Hel’s that!’ while Goody Tallheart readied to rush Argum away to safety, and, finally, simply repeating ‘Please?” over and over again, the guard remained steadfastly staring away. Not replying. Not retorting. Not re-ing anything. Boulder had started to believe the guard had mastered the art of sleeping upright with his eyes open.
November 21, 2025 at 9:11 AM
Reposted by Eolas Pellor
saranadosfiction.com
#WIPSnips | direction

In which Sabbat wakes up in the dark

( saranadosfiction.com/2024/10/02/s... )
He opened his eyes – or, at least, he thought he did, but either wherever they were didn’t have anything as fucking useful as a light source or he *couldn’t* open his eyes here – and glared in the vague direction of the voice. “-th’fuck did you do, Archer?” Silence, and then a muddle of words that he couldn’t make head nor tail of. “Speak a fuckin’ sensible language, not whatever that was. An’ that ain’t an answer, anyhow. You ain’t s’posed t’*be* here.” More muddled noise, though it sounded like a question. “You ain’t s’posed t’be here, because you ain’t s’posed t’be *dead*.” And if he kept hold of how fucking irritated he was about that, he didn’t have to think about what it meant that Archer was here, if here was where he thought it was, because if he had to think about that, he was fair fucking certain *something* inside him was going to break past all repairing. A pause. A hiss of indrawn breath. And then, suddenly, Archer’s hand was on his cheek, fingers warm and reassuringly *real*, and the muddle of sound resolved itself into something he could actually make out into individual words. “Gods, no. *No.* I’m not dead, and neither are you, and, by all the gods, I mean to keep it that way as long as I bloody can.”
November 21, 2025 at 8:50 AM
Reposted by Eolas Pellor
professoremily.bsky.social
#WIPSnips #amwriting #writingcommunity #writers #writesky

I've shared this snip before, but I had to with this word 😄

Continuation of a scene from earlier this week: Noah's first chat with Mr Gellar the Librarian.

From #Tenement, my dystopian mystery about people living in an infinite building.
“Where did you get this?” he asked. “My friend Kazuo. His older brother found it in a pile of junk somewhere. We have no idea what it is, so we’ve just been calling it the Nwissy.” That made him chuckle. “Well, I can tell you right now that you won’t find much about this in the Tenement Records.” “Then you know what it is?” “I do. I’ve seen one of these once before, a long time ago. It’s called a compass.” “A com-pass.” I tried out the word, and decided I didn’t like it. “What’s it for?” “It was used to tell direction.” “Was?” Mr. Gellar cleared his throat slightly. “Is, I mean. The four letters all stand for different directions in space. There’s north, west, south and east. See? That’s what they used to be called, before we started using the Front Door as our anchor point.” “Why does the needle always point the same way?” “Well, that’s how it works. The arrow always points the same direction. So if you pay attention to how it lines up with the letters, you can always tell which direction you’re facing.” “Yes, but... why does it always point the same way? What’s it pointing at?” Mr. Gellar paused. A subtle shadow fell over his expression. At last he said, “Well... I must admit, I don’t know the answer, Noah. Sorry.”
November 21, 2025 at 1:23 PM
Reposted by Eolas Pellor
heathenking.bsky.social
#WIPSnips #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts #WriteSky

I see students still watching through the door window as I approach. They clear away as the door opens, dissipating in each direction.
Outside, beyond the windows of the classroom, I see a flutter of wings. If I remain still, I can almost hear the birds chirping, their song trying to reach me. I don't have an answer. Taut, shallow breaths exit my lips. My eyes close for the briefest of moments. "Perhaps it's best if I take my grievance to Ogilvie," I say. "If that is your prerogative. I will continue preparing my lesson plan," Glad replies, turning back to the blackboard. The sound of the chalk scratching the surface sends a shudder through me. I see students still watching through the door window as I approach. They clear away as the door opens, dissipating in each direction
November 21, 2025 at 1:39 PM
Reposted by Eolas Pellor
melruthwrites.bsky.social
#WIPSnips #writingcommunity Atmospheric horror
With sleep comes reprieve. Rather than the pull of death, you feel the vitality of life. You rush through the thick trees on short fast legs that make running feel like flying. You don’t even stop when the low branches slap against your arms leaving scratches, and the thistles cling to your socks. The summer heat is less apparent the deeper you get under the shade of the cluttered canopy of leaves. You fly along until you reach a stream and crash into the cool water fully-clothed. The pirate lord has thrown the prince overboard, and you thrash intently in the water on the way to his rescue. You dive left and right, out-swimming sharks that lunge with sharp rows of teeth in your direction. A punch to the nose and you’re through their churning circle around the prince. You tow him out of danger and pull him to shore. Panting and grinning with the exhilaration of your imagined adventure, you can’t wait to tell Poppo all about it tonight. He is your best friend and confidante, and the only one that truly understands you.
November 21, 2025 at 1:53 PM
eolaspellor.bsky.social
#WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts

Today’s word is “direction”
November 21, 2025 at 1:52 PM
eolaspellor.bsky.social
#WIP #WriteSky #WritingCommunity

Getting close to my goal for the month!!
A November 2025 calendar with “Writing Challenge: 50k words” across the top and daily totals for November 1 - 21. The November 21 figure is 2400.
November 21, 2025 at 1:48 PM
Reposted by Eolas Pellor
stevewestenra.bsky.social
#WIPSnips - "Special"

Late posting, but here's one from my horror comedy about a cryptid-hunting Youtuber!

Wide (including print): books2read.com/u/boB9YL

Itchio: steve-westenra.itch.io

#transhorror #indiehorror #transauthor
“The conifers past the small airport look the same as the ones on Echo Island. Fog seeps over and between them, their branches sloped beneath the weight of a hundred remembered winters. She watches them like they’re special, and as I stand beside her the specialness of these mindnumbingly ordinary trees in this mindnumbingly ordinary place infects me too.” -The Erstwhile Tyler Kyle
November 20, 2025 at 4:48 PM
Reposted by Eolas Pellor
pamelaelaela.bsky.social
That boy who blasted Danbi into a wall sneaks up on her again. Such a bother.

#WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #AmWriting #AmQuerying
📚💙
“Good read?” I yelp, the book slamming shut in my lap, as Cyrus appears across the sunwater pond. He’s dressed only in shorts and sneakers and looks absolutely out-of-place in the frost-laden forest. “Why are you so quiet? And where are your clothes?” I pull my scarf tighter around my neck while he squats down with cupped hands to scoop up some sunwater. “Never understood why people dress for winter when they all have aerojumpers,” he says between slurps. “It would just feel weird to be in shorts. Besides, what if your jumper malfunctions?” “I think I could make it to the nearest gate before I froze.” He swabs his mouth on his shoulder, the gleam of the wet smear faintly different from the sheen of sweat across his chest and stomach. Not that I’m looking. The moonlight catches it. “Anyway,” he says, “I don’t do well with excess clothing or stuff. Finding this little pond here let me shed my canteen.” “Well, this is kind of a special spot of mine.” I stand, the book hugged against my chest, and challenge him with my eyes. “So if you wouldn’t mind, don’t ruin it.” His mouth pulls to the side, like someone who just figured out the punch line to a joke. “And what if it ruins me?” I squint. “What?” It annoys me to no end that this is all I can think to say, but Cyrus has an annoying habit of knocking me off balance.
November 20, 2025 at 12:03 PM
eolaspellor.bsky.social
#WIPSnips #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts

As close to “special” as I could manage
Photo of some text that reads: “Mark said he saw something like that, too,” he said. The others waited for him to explain, but he just sat there. “He told you?” Pat asked. BIlly startled slightly, as if he’d been lost in thought. ‘Not exactly,” he admitted. “He was talking in his sleep. I thought it was just a bad dream.” Billy and Mark shared a bedroom, a source of considerable tension, especially now that Mark was in high school, but with five siblings and a four bedroom house, there wasn’t much choice “He’s been really upset, you know?” Billy told them. “His girlfriend is missing, and he saw something after her. It sounds a lot like your guy. I thought it was just a nightmare.”
November 20, 2025 at 1:49 PM
Reposted by Eolas Pellor
sabriga.bsky.social
November 20, 2025 at 1:37 PM
eolaspellor.bsky.social
#WIP #WritingCommunity #WriteSky

I’d say this was disappointing, but it was a pretty good scene. I think.
November 20, 2025 at 1:38 PM
eolaspellor.bsky.social
#AwedomeCharacters #WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts

In my November WIP, most of the characters are human, and they are facing off against a vampire like creature and his confederate who was human but is now functionally immortal
charliedeltawrites.bsky.social Charlie Delta 🦊🐐 @charliedeltawrites.bsky.social · 9d
Tell me more about your #AwesomeCharacters

Are your characters human?

If not, tell me a little about what they are!

If so, are there any non-human species they interact with regularly? Tell me a bit about them and the type of relationship they have!

#WriteSky #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts
November 20, 2025 at 12:01 AM
Reposted by Eolas Pellor
professoremily.bsky.social
#WIPSnips #amwriting #writingcommunity #writers #writesky

Some weird worldbuilding today! I don't believe I've ever explained how people pay rent in the Tenement yet... Very curious what y'all will make of this 😄

From #Tenement, my dystopian mystery about people living in an infinite building.
“Noah, go check the slot,” my father told me. “Make sure there’s not any last minute quids.” The slot he referred to was a small horizontal opening in the wall by our front door, sealed off by a tarnished metal plate on a creaky hinge; a lever was embedded in the wall beside it. I pushed the plate open with my fingers, feeling around in the hollow space inside. “Empty,” I said. “Give the lever a pull, just in case.” I did, and waited for the telltale clinking sound. But I got nothing. “Come on,” I sighed, and pulled it again. I don’t know why my father decided I should be the one to do this. The Tenement hated me. Kazuo would have probably had better luck. After the third pull, I heard a clackety-clackety-clack inside the slot. I pushed the plate open and scooped out four quids—colorful little glass balls about the size of my fingertips. Quids were the primary form of currency in the Tenement. Every apartment had a delivery slot just like ours, and throughout the month, quids would appear there, generated by the Tenement as a reward for our good behavior. At least, that was what we told ourselves. In reality, the distribution of quids was notoriously unpredictable. This was, of course, how we paid our rent, though what the Landlord did with all those quids we sent him each month, no one knew. My father and many others theorized that it had something do with keeping the water and electricity going. How exactly that worked was never explained, but it didn’t matter. All we knew was we had to keep doing it, month after month, and not ask questions. Pay the rent or die in the dark.
November 19, 2025 at 12:51 PM
Reposted by Eolas Pellor
jangoeswriting.bsky.social
Family planning in a small village …

From ‘Reign, Dear’.

#WiPSnips
“Renny Puddlebottom is about due.” She linked her fingers upon her belly, slowly rocking back and forth. “It’s been a hard one for the girl. Soon be done and no doubt they’ll get to starting on the next.” A column of smoke blew lazily from Boulder’s lips toward the fire, the faintly blue smoke combining with that from the log, crackling and spitting in the grate. That would be the Puddlebottoms’ third. Families came large in the farmlands and, and Boulder hated thinking like this, but it was true, it was always worthwhile having more to spare. Life was hard on children. Get them past a certain age and they could expect a long life. Those early years, though? They could be harsh on families.
November 19, 2025 at 9:12 AM