The Beginning of the Royal Twins (Devotional December)

Darkness is not a place of brutality.  The goddess thinks this as she rises to her feet, her eyes lingering on the man who could be her exact opposite, they look so much alike.  They both have the same dark skin, long black hair, and burning yellow eyes.  But, she reflects, these features are common across the Otherworlds.

Her twin–and she had begun to think of him as such, though he was from a very different world than hers–rises to his feet as well, having collected, then cleaned, the arrows she had shot.  He passes them to her without a word, their hands briefly touching, before he picks up a bow and arrows of his own.

She wonders what he think of, as he draws his bow back; she knows a bit of his story, that he is on the run from those in his Father’s Court who would kill him.  But he is silent about his path to Darkness, and she knows that the Far Ones, and her ghosts, do not let anyone stay in these woods without a reason.


A Magician Stuck In The Desert

I saw the flash fiction challenge on Fractured Faith this morning, and thought it sounded like fun.

The summoning circle in the center of the desert was filled with diet Coke.  It was not, Jason thought, his proudest moment as a magician, but he had to work with what he had.  At least he had a reason to summon a monster from the Otherworlds; they knew how to teleport, and his car had run out of gas.

The sand in the center of the circle began to swirl, becoming a funnel which would call forth monsters to do his bidding.

Magic doesn’t fix everything.  The words filled Jason’s head, reverberating and multiplying as a vision of creatures made of shadows filled his mind.

“I just want a ride home,” Jason said.  “I’ve summoned you for less, great beasts of the netherworld, so why won’t you help me now?”

Buy more gas, was the reply, we’re supposed to teach you how to fix your life, not do the fixing for you.

Before Jason could offer the package of mints he had bought, the funnel collapsed into just a pile of sand, and he was alone again.

To Wish on Stars

An idea for a story popped into my head on my way home from the knitting group yesterday, so I decided to write it out.  It ended up being more serious than I intended for it to be, but it rings true for me.

“There’s Gods behind those stars, you know.”  The King closed the door behind him, joining his son in the private gardens.

His son had sprawled what appeared to be the entire Royal library’s collection of astronomy books all over the table, some in languages he couldn’t read yet.  But he was ignoring the books, sitting with his bare feet tucked under him, trying to get a look at the stars through his handheld telescope.

“Yeah, I know.”  The boy lowered his telescope, flashed a brief grin, then went back to what he was doing.

“It’s a Sirius thing, stargazing.”

Father.”  His son rolled his eyes.  “You always make that joke.”

The King simply smiled and sat down beside him.  The boy had been in their home for several years now, and there were already questions swirling around him–would he take the Throne, when he came of age?  And another question…what would happen if he didn’t?

“We will love him no matter what,” was always the answer he and his Beloveds gave.  It was the truth, not simply platitudes; he was their son that they loved, not just the Heir and Crown Prince of Darkness.

What if he is meant for things greater than this?

The King shivered at that thought, his eyes going to the stars that were now beginning to glow even brighter in the still spring-time night.   He followed the boy’s telescope, where the lens rested on the constellation that legend said would grant the viewer’s fondest hopes and dreams.

Please, he prayed, let him have a happy childhood, a happy life.  I did not carry him from the snow, his would-be killer’s blood on my hands, for him to become a pawn of the Gods and those who would seize my Throne by taking my child from me.

“What’re you wishing for?”  His son had put the telescope down on the table, simply gazing up at the stars with him now.

“That you’re happy.”

“I am.”  His son paused.  “Do you ever…speak to the stars?”

“To the Gods behind them, yes.”

“What do They say?”

“That They’re watching over you.”  It wasn’t a lie, but so much less than the truth; he had been shown a vision of a pearl that held the moon, and his son’s eyes black with grief.  What it meant he did not know, but he hoped that in the years to come, that the wish he made on this night still held true.

A Fairytale Poem for the Dreamer

A friend of mine wrote a poem about their Husband, and it inspired me to write my own fairytale based poem.

This is loosely based on Beauty and the Beast, but if the Beast hadn’t changed back into a man at the end of the story.

An impression of waiting darkness
lightning in the sky–and you
have taken me away,
and claimed me
as your King.

A crown of flowers and darkness
rests on my head, and you
have promised me everything–
but you ask me
not to kiss you
until the rose is bare.

I have told you that I am a monster;
in response you laughed,
and said that then you, to, shall be one
that if we are Kings together,
why not monsters as well?

Why must Beauty tame the Beast?
you ask with a smile
sharp and silver
like the blade of your knives.
Why must the monster hide
even from the one he loves?

So together
in winter nights
we wear black cloaks
and dance to the beating
of our Hearts.