Saturday, August 18, 2012

31DWC: Day 18

Prompt: Words woven like cheap fabric.

A piece of wisdom:

Speech is only a small amount of communication between humans. So much more is said by body language, by how one looks at something or someone. The sounds that leave our mouths mean nothing. We lie all the time, after all. One can say they love someone and not mean it, they can say they hate someone and mean the exact opposite. Words mean very little.

Words are lies. Unless they match the energy and emotion coming from you, they are like the cheap fabric that rips at the slightest amount of pressure.

Words are lies.
If you want the truth, look at a person’s energy, at their aura, at their emotion, at their actions.
Because words are just lies.
Nothing more.

31DWC : Day 17

Prompt: Take my hand I'll hold your breath.

I look at you and see someone who has never experienced certain parts of life. There’s innocence and a naivety that comes with not having done so. And there’s nothing wrong with that. They’re part of life, and occasionally can be something that people run away from. I think you ran from it for a while even.

There’s nothing wrong with that, but I love to show people the color that I see in the world. The color that is brought on by sensuality, by intimacy.

So take a chance, lovely.
Take my hand, walk through the doorway.
I’ll hold it open.

Come and see what the world can have to offer in this space.

Thursday, August 16, 2012

31DWC : Day 16

Prompt: The mirror shows that which you cannot see.

When you look in the mirror, what do you see?
Is it just your reflection?

When you look in the mirror, you see so much more.
It’s not just your reflection
It’s who and what you are.
The qualities, the traits that make up you.

And sometimes, we don’t see the most uplifting of things about ourselves.
You look and you see a freak
Someone who’s not good looking
Who’s too skinny, or fat
Someone who has bags under their eyes
Or their chest is too small or big

Sometimes though, this is not the reflection we’re looking at
But rather the things that we see are what we believe
Not what is

The mirror shows that which you cannot see.
Sometimes mirrors aren’t purely just a reflective piece of glass
Sometimes, they’re people, in our lives
People that bring out something about us
An aspect or a trait or a problem.

They are there to show you what you’re not seeing.
These mirrors are what teach us the lessons.

They show us what we cannot see for ourselves.

31WDC : Day 15

prompt: The girl with the golden smile and the coal black heart.

I used to know her well, better than anyone else at all. She and I were attached at the hip. We knew everything about each other and loved each other dearly. Or so I believed. All of the hugs and sleepovers, the talks about boys, friends, and so many other things, were not what I thought they were.

I always had thought she had a beautiful smile; it made her glow.

But one day, when talking about her crush, her boyfriend, I noticed a glimpse of darkness coming from within her. It confused me, but I wasn’t sure. I knew that something was wrong though, and kept my eyes open.

It was not long before I realized what was going on between her and the young man she was so very much in love with. Where I had always built strands of white light, cords of love, between me and other people, she had built twisted, tar like, sticky bonds that held him to her through a network of manipulation and lies.

I felt sick the day I realized that.

Now I paid more attention than ever, and realized that the bonds between me and her were faintly tainted at her end, but the white light of my love had kept them from becoming the twisted bonds I didn’t want. I shuddered and watched even longer in horror until I could not stand being around her.

I tried to speak of it to her, and she denied it straight to my face, as though she didn’t even realize what she was doing. And maybe she didn’t.

But to me she will always now remain, the girl with the golden smile and the coal black heart.

Wednesday, August 15, 2012

31DWC : Day 14

Prompt: The river of our youth runs deep.

The night was cool, pleasantly so, and lit only by the sliver of a crescent moon and starlight. I lay in the grass of the meadow, curled against Shayne’s side. He tugged me closer with one arm, using the other as a pillow as we stared up at the sky.

I heard his voice both in the air and through his chest. “I wish we could stay out here forever.”

Smiling, I turned to look up at him. “Maybe we can.” I pulled away and stood, reaching down to pull him up with me. “Surely a mountain meadow like this has some sort of beautiful magic in it. We’re under the stars, it’s beautiful out. We can stay here forever.”

He pulled me close and I could hear the grin in his voice. “Perhaps we can.”

With a grin, I tugged out of his grip, and danced away invitingly. He stepped after me and I stepped out of his reach once more. Before long, he was chasing me, and it didn’t take long for him to catch me, tackling me to the ground in a fit of laughter as we fell.

Youth was something to treasure while we could. The magic of the meadow was something special.

31DWC : Day 13

prompt: All that cannot be seen within the light.

Demons, devils and garish beasts
the Unseelie Court when unleashed
Everything that we find a grotesque sight
things that creep about every single night

Vampires, werewolves, balrogs and imps
Kelpies and things of shadowy glimpse
Banshees, ghosts and ifrits, such sights
all that scares us to hide in the light

Shadows and nightmares
bugs, spiders and blights
all that cannot be seen
within the light.

31DWC :Day 12

Prompt: Shiver in the crimson sunlight; dance in the porcelain rain.

Sunlight filtered in through the dusty and broken windows of what had used to my old home. Every beam was dancing with dust motes, leaving me bathed with crimson, my eyes dashing back and forth between the spots of light. I sat on a rickety wooden chair, inside an empty room. There was nothing left in this place for me. It was old, dead furniture and broken windows, sheets and dust and leftover memories.

I brushed stray strands of hair from my eyes as I stood, casting a silhouette upon the opposite wall from the windows. This place, this house that I had grown up in, was just like my own shadow. It was a silhouette of what it used to be.

And by morning, even that shadow would be gone.

It was already all prepared. I had drizzled gas along walls and floors, around appliances that no longer worked, over wooden furniture. It would all burn, and cleanse me of the memories in the process. There was no place for the soft girl that had grown up here. The ruthless me that had grown from that softness had no place in this house.

So I would leave no place for me to come back to.

I walked from the room, combat books making wooden floors creak. I paused only once, in the kitchen, by the old propane stove. I flipped the dials until they all were on, smelling the gas as I stomped out the kitchen door. There was a trail of gas out this door, leading the way to the bike that waited for me to ride away on.

I shivered in the cool breeze as the crimson light of the setting sun spread its weak rays around me, reflecting off of the dark clouds that were swiftly moving in from the east. Blood red clouds that would surely pour down rain. The stories that I had always heard about the bright yellow sun we had had as a planet once were just a fairytale of the girl I had once been. There was nothing else, only the blood red orb in the sky.

I stalked over to the bike, pushing my helmet onto my head and swinging my leg over. Lighting a match, I smirked, running my free hand over the burn scars under my clothing. How fitting that fire, what had made me so ruthless, would burn out every pieces of softness that I had left in my life. With a smirk, I flicked the flame onto the trail of gas, and started the bike. It purred to life under me as I looked once more at the house.

Without another thought, I turned the bike and tore down the driveway. I didn’t look back, knowing that it would take only moments for the gas trail to let the fire inside the house, and when it caught the propane, the explosion would cause wood and stone to fly. I didn’t want to be near enough to get hit.

The boom echoed through what had been my old neighborhood, and I forced myself to not look back, merely ducking my head and pushing the motorcycle to faster speeds. I sped towards the east, running away from the setting sun, and into the rain. The way that the sun tinted everything , I might have been riding towards blood, falling from the sky. I pushed that thought away as I sped away from everything that had been mine.

There was nothing left to keep me here.

Monday, August 13, 2012

31DWC : Day 11

Prompt: Your loveliest lie is the sound of your lips on mine.

Her black hair fell past her shoulders as she smoothed the silky cloth of her nightgown. She ran a brush through the dark locks as she sat on the edge of the bed, waiting for her lover to come home. Again and again her eyes would flash to the clock, only to find it growing later and later, and once again, he was not on time to be home.

Eyes watering, she set the brush on the bedside table, fingers curling into fists. He was always late recently. Her hair fell in front of her face as she leaned forward, wiping the tears from her eyes with delicate fingers. Anger was blossoming within her heart. She had known that her lover would not remain faithful, but it still hurt. And now, her hurt was swiftly turning to anger, and her anger would grow into rage. The image of him with a beautiful woman who was not her made her fingers curl into fists.

Silently, she waited, hair hiding her eyes.


It was not long before she heard the door close, and familiar steps coming down the hall. His blond hair was easy to see in the dim lighting, but she was nothing but a shadow. As he walked into the room, she looked up at him, letting her lips curve into a smile.

He started a little at the movement, but then seemed relieved. “Baby, you shouldn’t have stayed up for me.”

Her voice was sweet, as if she wasn’t so angry that she felt like stabbing him. “I missed you though.”

“Well, just let me shower, and then I’ll come to bed.” There was an underlying note of his voice that was almost pride. He thought he hadn’t been caught. But he paused by her, leaning down to brush his lips over hers sweetly.

She watched him go to the bathroom, waited for the shower to start running, and then moved silently on bare feet. Her hands picked up the white towel he had laid out, twisting it around until it was a tight rope in her hands, and then moved to the bathroom.

“Baby?” His voice questioned as she opened the shower door. He was still facing the wall though, head under the showerhead.

Expression full of anger, she moved swiftly, kicking at the back of his knee to make him drop. A yelp of pain and anger escaped him as he started to twist to face her, but she had already moved close behind him, heedless of the water soaking her nightgown. The white towel whipped over his head, and she twisted it in a full circle around his neck, pulling it tight. He struggled fiercely, but she had the upper hand, despite her slender body and weaker muscles.

Pulling tighter on the towel, she leaned down to whisper in his ear. “You played your loveliest lie for the last time. Goodbye, baby.” She waited for his struggles  to cease, and then a while longer, just to make sure.

Leaving him on the shower floor with the white towel around his swiftly purpling neck, she stepped out, leaving a trail of water on the floor. 

Sunday, August 12, 2012

31DWC: Day10

Prompt : The whisper of claws in the darkness.

Anasticia looked out of the cave, watching the moon rise. She hid in the dark, staying out of sight, her clawed fingers running over scaled thighs. She knew that nobody must see her, and on the full moon night, there was always a lady that came out to stare over the cliff’s edge.

At the thought, her golden eyes flickered to where she would first see the woman, and the lady walked into view, pale dress flowing in the breeze. She came to a stop with her back to the cave, staring out over the ocean. The steady sound of the surf pounding the rocks below was calming to Anasticia, but she knew that most people were terrified of the cliff. It was so very high.

Which was why she wondered why this woman approached the edge so readily that night.

Faintly, her pointed ears heard the words. “I join you tonight, my love.” And with a start she stepped forward, forgetting her form for a moment.

“No! Please, stay, live!” Her voice was only a hiss, her clawed toes scraping loudly over the rocks of the cave.

The woman spun around, eyes wide, and then, as the scrape came again with Anisticia’s next step, she squeaked and ran, back the way she had come.

Anisticia sighed with relief.
But now she would have to move, leaving only the beautiful woman to know that she had, in a sense, been saved by the whisper of claws in the dark.

Thursday, August 9, 2012

31DWC: Day 9

Prompt: In the stillness of our imagination.

In the stillness of our imaginations, beautiful things can happen. We can build the greatest of things, and create things we’ve never seen before. Animals and creations of beauty and artistic skill. Games and wonderful things to pass the time. We can build cities from nothing, and from everything, create nothing at all. Amazing mixtures of animals, creations of the gods.

In the stillness of our imaginations, we can do anything. We can be the knight of valor, saving the world. Or even the soft lady of talent and power. We can be anything we wish. Even nothing at all.

But for all the beauty our imaginations bring, they also bring the dark things to us.

In the stillness of our imaginations, we create horrors as well. We destroy the cities we build with creations of things that explode, things that rip others apart and wreak havoc. Grotesque things of ugliness and creations that only wish to do nothing but evil…

But despite that… we create things of such beauty. Would we have the beauty without its opposite?

The price we pay for what we can create in our imaginations…that endless loveliness… is that it also can create our greatest nightmares...

Wednesday, August 8, 2012

31DWC : Day 8

Prompt : All that you want and need is named a sin.

She flipped open the notebook, pen flying across the pages. Thoughts flowed through her head far too quickly for her to write them all down, but she caught ones here and there, following them down their trails and trying to let her emotions flow out of her like the ink flowed from the pen she wrote with.

There was nothing she could hide from her journal, but at the same time the words stared back up at her in her neat cursive hand, damning her for her feelings, for her thoughts.

I can’t do this easily.

She shook her head, letting the journal fall onto her bed. But still the words gleamed in the lamplight.

He’s everything.
No. not everything. But how can I find my own when he’s all I’ve got in my sights? He blinds me.

She shuddered, and leaned forward, letting herself read over the fractured thoughts she had blurted from mind to paper.

I promised myself I wouldn’t fall. And I haven’t. But I do put him ahead of most other people. Does that just mean that I haven’t found who I’m looking for yet? Will I lose my chance at happiness because I’m blinded by the glaring light that is-

Frustration flared at herself, and she sat up, slamming the notebook shut and glaring at it.

It would never let her be. The feelings and thoughts made her want to write, to get it out. Silently, she hoped nobody would ever read her ramblings. They were so fractured, so out of context. She never wanted them to be read by anyone unless she had time to take them, sort through them all, and put them into order, made them make sense.

With a grumble, she moved from the bed, standing and staring out the window. Everything she wanted was something she couldn’t have. At least for now.

Tuesday, August 7, 2012

31DWC: Day 7

Prompt: Now leave behind a life that's closing in

-It’s time.- Whispered the small voice in her head. – Time to go and leave. Go. Now. While the moon is full.-

She stared out the window that led out to the roof, looking at the brightly shining moon in the sky above. Stars surrounded it like sparkles. The voice was right. It was time.


The window slid open easily, and she stepped out onto the roof without a second thought. A bag was slung over her shoulders, and black cat slid out after her. The cat was smoky and insubstantial, flowing around her feet but not tripping her.

Her steps were soft as she crossed to the tree that was next to the house, and she grunted slightly as she shifted from roof to tree.

-Carefully, now, Mistress.-

“I know.” She muttered, “I’m being careful.”

Her tennis shoes left no scrapes on the bark of the branches as she climbed down to the ground. Here she paused, leaning against the tree and trying to keep her breath even.

-You can do it, Mistress. You already broke the spell holding you here.-

The cat materialized at eye height, walking on the air, and stepping down on her shoulders. The girl leaned her forehead against  the cool bark. “I know… it weak, but I still feel it constricting me… pulling me in.”

-Strength, Mistress.-

With a deep breath, she stood straight, and then started stepping away from the tree and the house. She had to get away from this life, the one of the normal teenage girl. The black, cat-shaped spirit on her shoulders alone made it clear that she was not meant for this. The book in her bag and the rest of her supplies made it even clearer to her that she was meant for something else.

Slowly, but steadily, she moved away, never looking back at the house as she stepped towards the forest. It was not her place anymore. She was headed elsewhere, away from the life that held her captive.

Monday, August 6, 2012

31DWC : Day 6

Prompt: Open the Book of Shadows; turn the page.

Shadows move eerily on their own when the imagination lets itself run away and create stories. It’s easy to believe one was simply seeing things when they entered into that dark attic or basement, that there was simply an illusion. But, at the same time, there are some things that can’t quite be faked. Cuts and bruises, or broken glass, for example.

Neither of these I have, of course, but that doesn’t make my story less true or less valuable. It only means that you have to take my word for it, base everything on faith, and just believe.

Do you believe in magic?
I don’t think it matters if you do or don’t.
I didn’t.

At least, I didn’t until I was investigating the attic of my house one day. It’s an old attic, and I was planning to turn it into a small guest room. There was always limited space in the house, and if I needed just one more bed, the small attic room would do.

It was dusty when I got up there, with cobwebs in the corners and a thick coat of dirt over everything. There wasn’t any of the crates or boxes that I expected. I knew that I had never entered the space before, so none of my boxes were there, but it always seems like there’s boxes up in these spaces from previous owners.

But the whole room was empty.
Take my advice. An empty room is never a good one.

Or at least, not usually. They often are startling.

When I was standing up in the center of the A-frame of the roof, I noticed that the room was not completely empty. Over in the far side, where the window was almost black from dirt and grime, was a stand. It looked a little like a music stand, only a very solid one. A bookstand of sorts.

Of course, as curiosity would, I walked over to it, cringing at shadows that moved and the way that cobwebs brushed against me.

It was an eternity to reach that stand, and the large book on top of it. I was covered in dust just from brushing up against things. When I finally did, I paused for a moment, looking down at a cover that held dust as if it were a book cover.

At this point, I couldn’t help but wonder who would leave this book just lying there, all set up to read, but not read. But curiosity is a fickle thing, and left that question or the next quite quickly.

What was the book? A story of some kind? Or was it just some old dictionary?

I reached out to brush my hand over the cover, finding it quite strong despite the half inch this layer of dust that I pushed off with my hand. I worked my way over the cover until I found the title, written in bold print.

The Book of Shadows.

I stared for a moment, trying to think. I had heard that before, but wasn’t sure when, or what about. I was pretty sure that it was a story though. Or maybe a series of them, considering the thickness of it.

Carefully, I slid my fingers under the cover, and flipped it open to the first page. It was blank. But when I turned the page once more, I was greeted by a delicate, but easily read calligraphy. And that was when my journey really began.

Sunday, August 5, 2012

31DWC : Day 5

Prompt : Your silver feathers shine diamond bright.

Who are you?
Shining so brightly above me…
Like diamonds in the sky, like stars.
I can’t see clearly.
So bright…
Light is everywhere…
So very bright…
I can’t see
And yet I can
Who are you?
Faceless, but somehow, that is not odd.
Are those truly wings.
Silver wings, gleaming shining
Is that where the light comes from?
It’s simply reflects, shines.
Are you mythical?
I can see you.
I can reach out and touch you.
I can smell… do you have a smell?
Hear…wings rustling.
Silver wings…heh…
So, you’re real enough, even if you are mythical.
But what are you?
An angel?
I’m not sure.
Who are you?
What are you called…
Silence is all that greets me?
Do you say nothing, then?
I suppose you’ve voice.
But you’re magical, aren’t you?
Mythical magical?
Can you not speak through thought?
I suppose that’s too much to ask.
I shall call you Sera then.
A name you have now, from me.
Where are we?
Is this heaven? Some in between space?
Ah, your wings sparkle so brightly.
It’s hard to focus.
Am I dead?
Am I dying?
Does it matter?
Well, yes.
It does matter
But if I am dying or not, I am here.
I know you, now, Sera.
Guardian or villain, you simply sit next to me
Shining, brightly
I don’t think anything so beautiful could be here to harm me.
At least, not yet.
You carry no weapon, but that does not mean much.
Hands can harm
Wings can too
And feet kicking out…that is pain.
But I feel no pain now.
And you make no move.
So I am…for now…safe.
Why am I here?
This place of strange nothingness
But it is everything at the same time.
It is a puzzle to be figured out.
I came here somehow, but don’t know how.
I am here for a reason, but do not yet know.
But I am here.
And I am
But I do not understand.
I do not have the answer to the important question…
Who am I?
I know what I am.
A spark of god-consciousness.
I believe, a human.
A soul.
I have a name, I’m sure.
I’m sure I have a purpose, or had one.
I now have at least a name for you Sera…
But can you tell me…
Who am I?

31DWC: Day 4

Prompt: The crumbs of love locked inside a gilded cage.

Her eyes were dry, but inside, her heart was screaming. She stared at herself in the mirror, shining black hair cascading around her face, down to her waist. Her blue eyes stared back at her, looking over delicately high cheekbones, full lips, and a gentle jaw. Her shoulders were bare, the dress she wore soft and flowing. It clung to her body, accentuating each of her perfections.

Inwardly, she cursed the tailor that had made the dress for her.

“Karen?” The male voice outside her door made her wince, anger joining in the despair that was already running through her. “Are you okay?”

She grit her teeth, almost hoping that it would make one of the white, straight things break. “I’m fine, Brad. I’ll be out soon.”

Shuddering, Karen leaned against the vanity, sighing as she did so, and turning away from her reflection. She didn’t quite want to go out with Brad tonight. But she had promised him that she would over a week ago, and her time was often in high demand.

With a sigh, she brushed her hair behind her ears, out of her face, and took a deep, grounding breath. Then, she stepped forward, going to the door and exiting the room, entering the parlor in with Brad waited.

He was a handsome enough fellow. Brown hair and eyes, a sharp jaw and a strong body: he was everything that a girl would look for. Intelligence shone through, he knew how to dress and what to say. But Karen looked at him, and saw only the cold, calculating gaze that he had when he looked at her. There was warmth, but there wasn’t enough of it. He wanted only her body and beauty, to be seen with her and gaze the status that came with it.

But she forced herself to smile, regardless, because this act was all that was holding her together. Would she ever find a man who would look at her and see her not for just the image of beauty, but for a woman as well? Her eyes were sad, even as she smiled and took Brad’s arm, allowing him to lead the way out of her mansion.

Nothing that she had was something that had been given to her by someone who had just wanted to make her smile. Very little of it had been earned by her. She was a celebrity, because she was beautiful.

It was a challenge to remain charming and smiling at dinner that night. Brad was easy to be around, but there was always a look in his eyes that said he wanted more. There was a way that he would touch her hand, or her shoulder. It was never inappropriate, but there was a hunger in it. No… Brad would not see her again as anything but an acquaintance.

When she returned home, she avoided the kiss he was wanting to give, letting it land on her cheek, and slipping inside before he could insist on anything more. She didn’t bother turning on the lights.

It took her only moments to slide out of her dress, leaving it on the foyer floor, and walk upstairs to her room, shedding underclothing as she went. By the time she was in her bedroom, her dark hair was cascading around her naked body in gentle waves. Even the small bits of jewelry she had worn were somewhere on the floor. She would pick them up later.

Turning, she looked at herself in the mirror again. She was simply a silhouette among other silhouettes, a shape among the other shapes. Tears welled up in her eyes as she moved swiftly, jumping from the floor and into her bed, sliding under her covers.

As she curled up, arms around her stomach, curled in the fetal position, she cried, sobbing silently, as she did almost every night. ­She was getting only the crumbs of love. Men were nice to her, they bought her things, they gave her flowers, courted her…  But none of them truly loved her. And she locked herself into the gilded cage, staring between the bars that she had found around herself.

She didn’t know how to break out of it.

31DWC: Day 3

Prompt: Close fast the iron door; turn out the light.

The sun was too bright, but thankfully, was setting. She squinted a little as she stepped out the door, shielding her eyes with her lashes. It was always too bright, even at dusk time, when the sky turned an interesting color of pink and the sun was no longer shining direct rays over the horizon. Looking up, she felt her eyes start to water, and growled softly.

“Damn this light. I should have waited-“ But she couldn’t have, and she knew it. With a sigh, she shut the door, and started to walk down the walk. Before too long, she turned off the concrete pathway, turning into the forest that was just off of her lawn.

When she reached the trees, in the shadows of the evergreens, she began to run, dodging underbrush with ease and letting her emotion flow out through her running steps. Tears formed in her eyes until her vision was so blurry that she dodged around trees on pure instinct, footsteps heavy. She didn’t know exactly when she had reached her favored clearing, but found herself collapsing to her knees, leaning over and panting. Her hands rested on the ground, fingers clenching the grass and ripping into the dirt as she felt hot tears fall from her cheeks onto her hands, soaking from there into the earth.

“Why, Cecil?” She gasped, a sob breaking through her control as she blinked, clearing her eyes of liquid momentarily. “Why?” Sitting back on her heels, she raised her face upwards, looking at the sky that was swiftly growing darker, no longer hurting her sensitive eyes.

Pain ripped through her as she felt the change begin. She let it flow through her, holding back cries and just letting her body shift. The searing pain of reforming bones and fur sprouting lasted only a short time in comparison to the pain in her heart. When it was finished, the she-wolf raised her nose skyward, letting out a soul-piercing, sorrowful howl.

Dusk had been Cecil’s favorite time, she remembered. Dusk…the time when the sun went down and the change became inevitable on those nights where the moon was filled with power. It wasn’t even specifically the full moon; a crescent could cause the shift, if it held power within it.

Standing, she let out another howl, ending in a short bark as she started to run, to hunt. She could still feel the overwhelming emotion, but let Wolf’s instincts take over. Food was needed. So she would hunt.

Paws thudded upon the ground as she chased after the scent of prey in the forest. Rabbits were plentiful this time of year, and she didn’t dare hunt deer on her own. Then, another scent came, a familiar seeming one. Human.

-No!- Part of her screamed. But the Wolf in her was merciless. Wolf needed food, and such things, humans, were weak, and thus prey. They were soft skinned and slow. Wolf took over, and the human in her shrank back, hiding in the darkest, farthest corners of her mind, where it would not have to witness the bloody massacre that would happen.


When she awoke, she was back at her house, curled up in the fetal position and shivering in her garden. Sore, but full, she retched slightly at the thought of what was inside her stomach, and whimpering, made her way slowly to the house, slipping inside to the dark house. She moved slowly, slinking as if she were the lowest of the low, and made herway to the basement.

“Remember Cecil.. Never go out again on a night you change.” She whimpered, as she closed the iron door of her basement behind her. The weak light from the bulb was too much even, and she shielded her eyes from it as she made her way to where she knew the light switch was. “Close the door…turn out the light. Never again…”

Her fingers touched the switch, and all went dark.

Thursday, August 2, 2012

31DWC: Day Two

Prompt : A dwindling world below your weary feet.

I stared up at the bedroom ceiling, breathing even. Listening carefully, I could hear the quiet sounds of my friends around me. Their breathing was all the same evenness as mine. Neither of them were sleeping either. Quietly, I turned my head to look at the one closest to me, Amber. Her green eyes met my gaze in the darkness.

Without a word, she turned to look at Thomas, who was on her other side and he raised his head to look at me. Together, we paused for a moment, smiled, and looked at Amber. She grinned up at us.

Silently, we slid out from under the covers, changing from pajamas into jeans and shirts, shrugged on jackets, and paused to look at each other once again. Blue eyes met green, green met brown, and brown returned to meet blue. With grins, we shrugged on jackets and slid into shoes. My window was open, and the screen already popped out. Without a word, we climbed out the window, and with gentle thumps, landed into the garden outside.

Hand in hand, we stepped out onto the street, and with the moon above us, lighting our way, started walking.


I looked out at the world from underneath my baseball cap, marveling over how the world had changed since I had run away from my house. The rain poured down upon us where we sat. Green eyes turned to meet mine, and I smiled at Amber, her own cap keeping the rain from her face.

Turning, I looked over at Thomas, and his brown eyes gleamed. I reached out to both of them, and their hands met mine halfway. Even after the years of wandering, we were still together, brought only closer by the experiences we had shared. Our little triangle of power, wandering the world away, would always stick together.


The world was dwindling away slowly, getting replaced by concrete jungles and asphalt streets. They tore through our shoes faster and faster every year. It was getting harder and harder to just wander the woods. Cities were popping up from everywhere.

Brushing my long, shaggy hair from my eyes, I blinked and sighed, pushing up to my feet at the same time as Thomas and Amber rose to theirs. We were all dressed raggedly, old clothes put through hell as we wandered through all weathers.

Reaching out, our hands met once more, and my voice was soft as I looked back and forth, meeting green eyes, then brown. “What do you say, guys? One more walk?”

Wednesday, August 1, 2012

31 Day Writing Challenge (31DWC) : Day One

Prompt: Don't hope that it was just a dream.

His skin was warm. She smiled, taking a deep breath as his lean arms slid around her. Mumbling softly, she tucked her face against his neck. He made a soft noise in return, arms tightening momentarily around her and his legs entwining with hers. With his scent in her nose, she felt herself drift off onto the gentle clouds of sleep.
Waking up slowly, she shifted, and shifted again. Something that felt similar to a stone was shoving into her ribs. With a huge sigh, she rolled slightly, and pushed herself back a little, expecting to feel her partner behind her. He wasn’t there, and her arms didn’t curl up to her chin like usual. She felt like her head was very different, as well. It was too far from her shoulders.

A sigh gushed from her lungs, and she moved to get up. The movement, while it came naturally, felt awkward as though she didn’t usually get to her feet in that way. Her eyes were still blurry as she blinked sleep from them, rubbing her head against her arm to help clear it away-

Moments later, she realized that the bobbing way in which she was moving her head was not how a human would. Blinking rapidly, she cleared her eyes, and found herself staring down at…

Hooves. Horse hooves, to be exact. Snorting with surprise, she twisted what she knew was an equine neck now, and saw behind her, a horse body, horse tail. A surprised snort exited her lungs as she adjusted to having a different view from her eyes.

“It’s a bit odd, isn’t it?” The voice caught her attention. It was guttural, with a hint of a growl tone in it. “Don’t worry, you’ll soon adjust. This place is different. Your form is pure, better than many people who come here.”

She shook her head and turned to look at the speaker. Panting off to one side was a dark-furred wolf, his amber eyes focused on her, mouth open in a grin. “I don’t understand.” For all the her ears heard a snort, she felt them turn backwards and knew that the language she was speaking was not English.

A short snort of laughter came from the wolf. “Nobody does at first. It’s okay.” He stood, stepping forward. “You are interesting though. Your form is pure, but there are overlays. You don’t seem wholly…one.”

“What?” She lowered my head to look at him from a similar level.

He shook his head and shook his fur out as well. “No matter. You are exactly as you should be.”
Shaking her head, and then shaking her neck as well, feeling the mane flop back and forth. “I don’t understand what you mean.”

The wolf stepped closer. “This is the form your heart would take, if you could shift. In this place, you are what your heart desires in form.” He lifted his head, cool nose brushing against hers.

Breathing deeply, she brought in the predatory scent of wolf, the wild musk of his personal, signature scent. It didn’t seem threatening. As a horse, she should have been threatened by being so close to a natural predator, right? Her nostrils flared.

The wolf’s ears pricked forward. “I am Dusk Under the Moon. That is the name I was given here. Come now, it is time to receive yours.” Tail wagging slightly, his tongue touched her muzzle gently, and he turned. “Follow me.”

Not knowing what else to do, and figuring it was just a dream, she followed him, hooves clomping softly on the grassy ground. She flared her nostrils as she took in every scent that came her way, and her ears twitched back and forth. The journey she followed Dusk Under the Moon on was short, a simple path through the woods, and into a clearing.

His voice was a low rumble again. “Stand in the center of the clearing. This is where all of us received our names.”

She looked at him. “Us?”

A moment later, she noticed forms approaching: other wolves, different birds in the trees, and several deer, walking to the edges of the clearing, mixing with wildcats of different breeds and sizes. Scents filled her nostrils, and without another question, she felt herself pulled to step into the clearing. Without resisting the urge, she let herself step slowly forward until she was in the center of the clearing.

Around her, she heard murmurs and growls, mutters and whispers.

“Look at that coloring.”


“What contrast.”

“Is that a brindle pattern?”

Each whisper was about her. Her coloring, her build, or her stance. Self consciously, she tossed her head a little, and shifted her feet as she waited for what came next. Slowly all quieted, and she heard the sound of hooves stepping forward. A black stallion stepped forward, his forelock heavy and hiding his face in a roguish manner. Next to him was a silver wolf, her head high and tail slowly wagging. On the other side was a buck, his antlers impressive. On his back, sitting carefully was an eagle, white feathers standing out in contrast to golden brown.

The stallion spoke first. “Welcome, stranger.”

The silver wolf stepped forward and sniffed the air deeply. “She smells of deep woods and faeries.”

Searching for familiarity in this place, her eyes searched until she found Dusk, noticing that he had a large mouse tucked between his front paws where he sat. His amber eyes were smiling encouragement at her, and she shifted, looking back at what could only be a council of sorts.

“Her coloring is special.” The shriek came from the eagle. “That brindle color is not something normally among horses, Shadow of the Sun. It is like her heart. Striped with life.”

“This is not a normal place, Skyward Bound.” Laughed the silver wolf.

The buck flicked his ears forward. “She sounds like the wind… constant but coming and going, echoing off of the forest.”

All eyes suddenly focused upon her, and she wished she could shrink into the ground. So much attention.

The stallion, Shadow of the Sun, stepped forward, pacing around her once and coming to a halt in front of her. “Do you accept your form, in all that it is?”

She lifted her head to look at him. His brown eyes were serious, and grave. Suddenly she knew that this couldn’t just be a dream. “I do.” She replied.

The silver wolf stepped around her, followed by the buck and eagle. “Do you wish to be able to return here, to be in your heart’s form, whenever you wish?”

“I do.”

The buck’s voice was soft and deep. “Do you wish to be named, so that all can call to you and you know when they wish your attention?”

“I do.”

“Will you help to defend this place, to keep it alive so that all may one day share this freedom?” With the eagles shrieking cry, she felt her feet rooted to the ground. There was no way to stop now.

“I will.”

With a scream, the bird took off, circling. Power flooded through her, and she felt as though she could run forever, take on the world.

The stallion stepped forward, closer to her. “We then name you, stranger. You are now Echo of the Wind. Welcome, and be a stranger no more.” He brushed his nose against hers, taking in her scent. Automatically, she breathed in, taking in his.

The silver wolf stepped up next, rising onto her hind legs to brush noses and lick her muzzle. “Welcome, Echo of the Wind.”

After the buck stepped forward to touch noses and greet her, other animals stepped close around her, chanting her name. Dusk pushed forward to the front, eyes gleaming, ears perked. 

He tucked himself under her belly, between her front legs as the procession of introductions came through and greeted her.

After the mixed tribe of animals had all come by and greeted her, Echo sighed happily, and looked down at Dusk. “I feel like something huge just happened that I do not fully understand.” She confided to him, and Breeze in the Grass, the mouse.

They both chuckled. “You have a new family, one that will never leave you. We are all together, here in these woods.” Breeze squeaked at her, raising a hand-like paw and touching her nose.

Dusk carefully tilted his head to rub against her, taking in her scent again. “Come, run with me, and others. Be one with the pack, and let them know you accept them as they have accepted you.” He bounced, and Breeze shifted so that she held tightly to his ruff, where she could ride safely with them. The dark wolf bounded playfully, jumping around Echo and nipping at her flanks.

With a whinny, she started off. “Okay, okay!”

It was not long before their run was joined, first by wolves, then by cats, other horses, and the deer. They ran separate but apart, some so close that she brushed fur with them, others just in sight through the trees. It didn’t matter. They were one.
Light was shining into her eyes, and her nose was still filled with the wild scents and sounds of her dream. She felt his arms tighten around her as she slowly woke more. With a slight moan of protest, she shifted, tucking herself tighter against him

“Sad… it was just a dream.”

She looked up with surprise as he responded, his voice a low rumble. “Don’t hope it was just a dream, Echo. It’s never just a dream.”

Brown eyes met lighter brown eyes with shock as he smiled down at her. "Dusk?"