About NWQP
Northwest Quest Publishers values stories that give voice to writers and characters who might be absent from or under-represented on bookstore shelves. Our focus inhabits the realms of regional history and folklore past and future, and embraces a contextual sense of place. We care about building community through collaborative storytelling and fostering an appreciation for culture, fun, gaming, and good writing in a blend of formats.
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LitRPG Historica
Coming this fall!
For Rent
For Rent: Five Story Turret. Enquire within.
Recently renovated turret with 3 bed, 2 bath. Views.
All new appliances. Water/Garbage not included.
No pets/wizards/librarians.
Three references a must.
Destination
To the left, you see nothing but scrub grass and hills. To the right is the remnant of a road. The double lines travel for a few feet before disappearing into a jumble of upturned asphalt. Back the way you came, the road was nothing but a scrapped dusty path. You’d never expect it to lead here.
Fall Apples
Fay looked at the note in her hand. “Two cans of grease, one bag extra fine sand. Two bags of apples (any grade).” And then she looked at Old Man Hayes. “Do you have any fall apples left?”
The man’s face broke into a grin.
“If there's a book that you want to read, but it hasn't been written yet, then you must write it.”
-Toni Morrison
By the Stars
Just past the signpost, the blackness of space yawns before you. Stars twinkle in the near distance, looking welcoming, if a little cold. As you stand there, the wind kicks up a dust devil, and a single leaf rattles around the signpost once, twice, before reaching the edge of space. It tumbles along the current, and you reach out a hand to catch it before-- Before what?
Locked Inside
Franzl and I stand by the Bowthorpe Oak at dusk, watching the guards. We thought we'd visit the market, trade supplies, resume our journey, but that was 17 days ago. Autumn has come. We must find a way out.
The Rusted
She could hear their voices, far down below, under the cold hush of sulfurous water. They talked as if they knew she was listening, had been listening since that first night.
Your Trail Starts here...
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