Monthly Archives: July 2011

On Fiery Wings by Isabelle

Anne Stokes Fantasy Art - Click Image to Follow Link

Fools. All of them.

They come with their sharp swords and polished armor, so eager to be the hero of the tale. To win over the maiden with a single, life-defying act of bravery.

No words. No flowers. No real attempt at a lasting connection.

For them, she’s no everlasting love, no happily ever after. She’s a prize. A living, breathing symbol of their masculine power. She might as well be carved of gold, for all she’s worth to them.  Continue reading


Trickster by Lisa

The desert wind whipped across her face, but even in the moonlight, it was warm.

She was told that her prey would not be an easy one to catch.

After all, he was the most cunning of the legends, said to have stolen fire from the very gods themselves. He gave it to the People, back when he was their Brother, but he had long lost such loyalties.

How could an innocent, young girl like her possibly hope to beguile Coyote, the Trickster?

But he had deceived her grandfather long ago, brought shame to their whole line. It was her time to exact revenge.

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Driftwood by Isabelle

Source: stalecigarettes on Tumblr

Fire.

I was on fire.

I rolled around wildly slapping my body as though I could put it out with my bare hands. But there were no flames. No burns. Only sand.

Coarse, infinite sand. Continue reading


Procession by Lisa

I didn’t see it happen the first time. We had just moved here, and I’d gotten the flu, possibly from spending every day after school exploring the woods behind our house, no matter what my mother told me. It’d been a damp year, but I’d only lived in the city before this. Everything else seemed new.

I don’t usually get sick, but it hit me particularly hard that year. I’ve never felt so deathly ill and weak in my entire life. I could hardly move without wanting to throw up, but then, I could hardly move anyhow.

I didn’t see it that year, but I sure heard it. The most haunting, glorious music I’d ever heard. It was high and clear and beautiful. I wasn’t sure if it was a voice or some sort of instrument—all I knew was that I wanted it. The music seemed to crawl inside me and attach to the innermost parts of me. Despite my weakness, everything inside of me wanted to find the source of that music and bury myself inside it. Instead, all I managed to do was fall out of bed.

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