Lucinda of the Ashes

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Digital drawing. Two hands seen from above, as if they were the viewer’s hands. The left hand at bottom left is holding a glass container, like a beaker with a funnel top. The right hand at top right holds a glass rod. The index finger is held away from the rod. A drop of liquid hangs from the end of the glass rod, right above the opening of the beaker. A small figure with dragonfly wings hovers over the left hand. The beaker contains a vaporous liquid. A bright cloudy swirl begins at center behind the hands and darkens as it moves outward to the edges of the image.

Lucinda held her breath, as she raised the glass rod above the vial and tapped the rod to release the single drop of liquid that clung to its end.

The drop fell in the vial, joining the muddy liquid within.  The liquid turned ruddy, then clear.  And it stayed clear. 

Lucinda dared to exhale just as the liquid began to swirl and turn ruddy, then muddy.  She ducked under the table just before the vial shattered, spraying red flames and charred bits of glass in every direction.

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When Sun and Moon Fled the Sky

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Mischievous, capricious, boisterous Sun never took her cosmic duty seriously in her younger days.

Many cast light upon the mortal world, but only one, only Sun cast warmth upon the mortal world.

For Sun was always laughing.  Always.  And her great warmth came from her perpetual laughter.

Her elder sister, Moon, cast a light that was calming and dim enough to let other lights shine, like the stars and the planets. Continue reading

Felicia Incantata

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Felicia IncantataMy mother named me Felicia, after her favorite flower, the blue daisy.

When I was young, I would always tell people she named me after the word in that ancient language that meant “lucky” and “happy.”  What good was a flower after all?  Why would she name me after something that wasn’t good for much other than looking lovely?  Why didn’t she name me after something strong like the wind or an animal?  I’m older now.  I know why.

Mother needs me.  And the only thing that stands between her and the sorrows and sufferings of a painful death is a flower.

*** Continue reading