“Raccoons or orphans, whatever is back there, chase them away. Or chase this away. It’s your choice.”
I didn’t want to look at the glinting silver coin that he held up, but I couldn’t help it. This was not the coin I needed today, or ten days from now, or even ten years from now. I was prudent with my coin. No, this was the coin I would need when I was an old woman, assuming I wanted to be the type of old woman who spent her days sitting by a sunlit window, sipping on fruit nectar, listening to a happy dog bark as I read a book of my choosing for as long as I so pleased.
Read More The Vessel Vespertilian
She did nothing to earn her beauty. It was given to her. And as with many such gifts, beauty was both a boon and a burden to the girl whose name was Imelda.
She was doted on by some, guarded by others, coveted by still others.
Imelda’s mother, who both loved and feared for her girl, spent many sleepless nights wondering when her child would grow old enough to be passed into the protection of another. For she and her husband were humble folk, as their child too would have been. But Imelda’s beauty—while it may not have impressed in a city or even a large town—was quite surpassing in their little village. Surpassing enough to catch the eye of those with greater means. The girl wished to be learned. She wished to explore.
Perhaps her beauty could make it so could do what she dreamed of doing.
Read More Why Beauty Sought the Beast
The starry-eyed youth named Carson cast his gaze at the full moon. His father had just cursed it, or rather, he had cursed those who dwelt upon it.
“A storm is coming,” his father said, gazing up at the low and looming clouds. “A storm with high winds.”
Yet another storm, the fourth one in as many days.
“Soon it will storm day and night,” his father said. And then he raised a fist to the full bright moon and shook it.
Read More The Moonbroch
The king is the hound and the hound is the king.
Read More The Feast of Paravirneo
The feasters come and eat, but they don’t suspect a thing.
It’s a feast like none they’ve seen, a spectacular repast.
They never e’er suspect that the meal will be their last.
The first one was discovered when it bit a child. Such a thing was not unheard of. Children often tugged and poked and got themselves bitten or kicked or nipped at. But when this little boy’s mother came to pick him up and check his wound, she found something far more insidious than broken bleeding skin and a crying child. The gash was deep, the flesh shredded, and it bubbled and festered with a foul odor, as if the flesh had been rotting for days, though it was only freshly wounded.
Read More The Wolf Chair