The Perfect Stone
The Perfect Stone (Picks up where Light the Wreath left off) Seeking the perfect one, Ran touched the stones. “Make them glow,” he said; Sarn touched them; they lit, ’til he moved his hand away. “Pick one stone.” Ran piled the stones up and smiled for his bit. A voice cried out, “make a way for the Lord.” Again he cried, “make straight a path for God.” A ragged man passed, eyes afire for this ‘Lord’ with zealous light as he shouted for his God. Sarn shook his head, “I can’t afford that pile.” “Make more money,” Ran shrugged, the answer clear. Sarn shook his head; time to leave ‘fore the mild crowds, with the man … Continue reading The Perfect Stone
December’s Rise
December’s Rise November gives thanks to all who precede. After the feast, it gracefully exits. Autumn’s color fallen away indeed. A landscape blanketed in leaves permits December’s rise. It sweeps onto the stage alight with seasons greetings, warm regards, and Advent wreaths. ‘Fore the year turns the page, dream of a white Christmas and write your cards; send them with best wishes, then deck your tree. ‘Round your house string lights to guide Santa’s sleigh. Recall those who’ve naught on your shopping spree. Save something to donate; so on that sleigh, by gifts wrapped in sparkle and shine, a gift of your mercy waits, to be given with love. ~ … Continue reading December’s Rise
Mistaken
Mistaken A woman passed, caught Ran’s glance, made him start– for there walked his missing mama. Holding tight to his stuffed bear’s arm, he hurried, heart yearning for her touch. His small form’s threading through the market; the crowd’s blocking his sight. The market sprawls in a mile wide cavern. His mama could be anywhere. Dim light cheats his sight making it hard to discern. Down one aisle, then another, he’s lost now. He’s hugging his bear, looking everywhere. Mama’s gone; he’s abandoned, so he slows. Then he’s lifted up, held tight; Papa’s there. Ran was never lost at all just misplaced and … Continue reading Mistaken
Future’s Fire: Sheltamarae, the Dragon
Future’s Fire: Sheltamarae At the top of the world he bides, seer, fire-breather, smoke-weaver, Sheltamarae he’s called. Through fire he watches near and far, future events and present day. Greater than he is the Lord who made all, who put the future in his claws. Empires rise and fall as he watches. Future’s thrall, his gaze is locked on fate’s flickering fires that’re never quenched ‘til mankind’s strivings cease. Evil breathes on that fire, incites a blaze that eats possibilities, ashes peace, brings nations to their knees, but since it stays within the rules, he can’t intrude, even though the … Continue reading Future’s Fire: Sheltamarae, the Dragon
The Luckiest People Eat Humble Pie
The Luckiest People Eat Humble Pie The first person I encountered today wasn’t supposed to be dragon, glaring mom’s disapproval down at me, no way! Her red claws caged me where I stood staring, holding the last piece of sweet pumpkin pie. Her magic engulfed me and my skin itched. “Mom this is child abuse!” I cried but my words left my beak as chirps. My form she’d switched again for a bird’s wings but why this time? “I told you not to start another war.” Mom’s flaming eye enlarged showing my crime. Bloated bodies, sun-baked, are dead from war. I … Continue reading The Luckiest People Eat Humble Pie
Chandelier’s Swing
Chandelier’s Swing He wanted to throw off his disguise, swing from the chandelier over the crowd, drop down on the dais sword drawn, one swing away from decapitation, one drop of a headless corpse to the ground and his comrades, the Guardians, avenged. He gripped the cane that supported him and bandages pulled against wounds unavenged. Masked dancers moved beneath the chandelier whose light glistened off their costumed faces. One girl in wine cast her eyes without fear at the betrayer she stalked. Her laces hid a surprise he guessed but her quarry retired, leaving her an unknown story. ~ ~ ~ … Continue reading Chandelier’s Swing
The Wanderer
The Wanderer He kept the balance ‘tween good and evil, natural and corrupted, man and beast. The One Continent is his cathedral. Its upkeep, the last Balancer bequeathed. Across Mori Kana’s rust sands to drive demons out of Morfane’s fabled onion- domed spires. He climbs to higher ground to deprive those demons access. He smote in canyons deep their remains, scattering them on winds westward-running towards aeries in the peaks. At climbs end, he reclines in peace, unwinds with glossy bat-winged humanoids. ‘Till speaks his sixth sense of danger brewing abroad. A giant eagle flies him to trouble’s fjord. ~ ~ ~ Based on ‘The legend … Continue reading The Wanderer
Decide: Dread, Fury or the Guilt that Haunts
Decide Five years ago… Blood dripped into his eyes, blinding him; pain hammered his body. Bones poked through his skin. One arm and one leg bent the wrong way. Pain throbbed in his head, darkening within ’till without faded, awareness dwindled down to a woman’s voice. “You must decide to live or die.” She squeezed his hand, kindled a flicker of will whose blaze had once pried him from death; it would now if he allowed. “The Kid’s strong; I can’t help if he objects,” said the healer. “His magic won’t allow.” “Sarn,” said his brother, “don’t you dare object.” Decide now: life … Continue reading Decide: Dread, Fury or the Guilt that Haunts
Self Portrait?
Self Portrait Who are we but collections of our ‘selves’? Puzzles pieced together by memory. Experiences housed in skin bags. Halves seeking wholeness, but e’er in assembly. Captured in pixels or film, photoshopped; filters applied; curves adjusted; brightness added or reduced; shadows dodged or ‘shopped. Not happy with the resulting likeness. Make it black and white–desaturate life. Yes, now I see! Those stark lines and gray curves, soft focus, fine detail–sharpen that strife. Am I in the final image preserved? Or was I lost in the details refined? Can one image ever, myself, define? ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Inspired byBulldog Travel’s Selfie prompt … Continue reading Self Portrait?
Contrivance – One Word Photo Challenge
Contrivance In chrome it gleams; at the bottom of pots, it waits. In my fridge it chills, though it still beckons. More insistent than dark chocolate, it baits me with visions of green valleys; dead-on in my sights, an Enchanted Forest spreads. Dragons ride the thermals and cats foretell, offering beach blanket fliers not bread, but bowls of soup to sup upon while spell Cat winds with words both old and kind of times when heroes rode, a Child of Magic strode and sword made whole when right healed the old crime which drove a line of men onto shame’s road. Reflected in glass on my appliance, is … Continue reading Contrivance – One Word Photo Challenge
Masks
Masks He toweled birth fluids off his hands; the colt tottered to his mum’s waiting teat to eat. A tickle in his mind, a soft slide, no jolt, just a smile as the connection that cheats the miles ‘tween his mind and mom’s cemented. Her much-missed voice in his head, soft and sweet, praised the colt he’d helped birth; sad news dented his mirth; his captive grandpa’s dead; grief beat him down, twelve years of mind-talk, no contact, not safe ma’d said. He kicked the mask, pining. No masked fete for him, not when this contact had broken his heart. “Are the stars shining?” mom asked. He tilted his head, … Continue reading Masks
Peace
Peace Peace’s posed behind glass; she stood spotlit, melting in the heat, walled away from those passing on the street. They don’t give a whit about peace as she stands there her hands to those chasing dollars ‘stead of dreams. They don’t see her sprout wings, a white dove breaking through glass shattering the scene. She’s flying now, free from admiration lauded on her glass cage; no longer a concept seen but not touched. She can go where she’s needed; no one can impede her. She’s no exhibit, not some high minded-ideal. She’s everyone; Every smile we make; every hand we shake. Every … Continue reading Peace
Alight – Photo-Fiction #14
Alight Seven years ago… She’s a slave with a mark on her shoulder, in an illegal lumir mine worked by children but in her mind she’s free of this boulder, with the boy whose iridescent green eyes captured her heart. He’s special, finds gems like none she’s ever seen; it makes the foreman happy, so he spares them, his brother–tyke– clinging to Green Eyes. Later, she’s dreamin’ somethin’ made of light, goodness and right. It’s filling her up and carrying her to Green Eyes; in her hand’s a gem so bright, he must have it; protection it confers. It belongs to the boy with the green … Continue reading Alight – Photo-Fiction #14
Night Lights
Night Lights Stalks wrapped in lights rose up into the night. The Fungal Forest spread from the river sheltered ‘neath the Enchanted Forest. Bright as sunset, never plain, a world inside that domain, where the wee folk fly about. Naked except for wings, they sit beside glowing ‘shrooms and keep the sacred worm stout. The worm then spins silken threads the wee folk trade with the Tall Ones for red dyes to make colorful draperies for the Mount Folk. In the ceremony, the ‘shrooms they take, to find clarity. Instead their mind’s dazed. They wanted what the wee folk had in spades. ~ ~ ~ Like vignette-style poems? Intrigued by this corner … Continue reading Night Lights
What Do You Want to Be?
What Do You Want to Be? “When you grow up, what do you want to be?” Sarn listened to the boys talking, his own answer clear; if given a choice, he’d be a Guardian of Shayari, his own master too, not subject to others’ whims. He’d right wrongs, defend the weak, save the meek. In short, he’d not be intendured, nor grim. Below, knights sparred in bright armor that creaks. Then his son’s voice captured his attention. “I’ll be like my Papa, when I grow up.” After that stunner, Ran smiled and motioned Sarn to join them, though he was all grown up. As for me, … Continue reading What Do You Want to Be?
Melinda Kucsera - USA Today Bestselling Author of Epic Fantasy Adventures 
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