graffiti Words scrawled on the wall erode by magic, as it eats away at the paint, renders the writer’s message in tragic lines that blur, but don’t fade as the number of viewers rises to include a young man, illiterate, who sees only lines, takes away no meaning nor does his young son who’s tugging his hand, pulling out of line, not interested at this time in words written by adults on stone walls, left for people who don’t have adventures; forwards, he wants to go where there’s just canvas for life to paint fantastic landscapes, simple pleasures or destinies without ripples.  ~ ~ ~ Inspired … Continue reading graffiti

Beloved and The Trouble with Magical Security

(this piece references events that take place in Shopping with Mages) Beloved Inari brushed her long hair, her thoughts winged to Mount Eredren, to her beloved but her eyes rested on her son who hanged on what Sarn said; he, a substitute thread in the tapestry of her family. Nerule no longer competed for time her beloved spent not with family but with the rangers, working overtime. No, her son’d found a naive substitute, one used to playing the role, and always glad to include her son in his pursuits. Her family was eroding away. She was on a family trip sent by her … Continue reading Beloved and The Trouble with Magical Security

Shopping with Mages

Shopping with Mages (and why you shouldn’t EVER take a mage shopping…) [Picks up where Button Holed left off] Water swirled past, sails lay slack and gathered, rowers plied their oars moving the trireme down the River Nirthal. Winter withered what autumn left behind, a color scheme spare and dark where naked trees stood sleeping the winter’s sleep, dreaming of greening spring days. What the hell was he doing here standing ’round staring as trees slide by in a daze? Roped into a shopping trip despite doubts about the holiday they went to shop– “Do you know what this Christmas day’s about?” “No school that day,” … Continue reading Shopping with Mages

A Fool for Christmas

A Fool for Christmas (Picks up where Light the Tree left off) Nolo prayed, “O Lord, listen to our prayers and enlighten the darkness of our minds…” More he said, things ’bout visits and affairs of grace, the rest washed o’er Sarn and couldn’t find a home, so its meaning got lost somewhere between man, prayer and ignorant darkness. Nolo’s wife added a brilliant rose stone to the advent wreath, but e’en that brightness couldn’t enlighten a darkness all his own. So Sarn stood there, as he’d done two Sundays prior, wondering what wreath, tree and waiting time betokened, what would Christmas day require? Some understanding would surely come, … Continue reading A Fool for Christmas

Star of Change

Star of Change Said the night wind to people standing there, do you know what glows, people, way up high? A star, a star, of change, shining right there. It’ll bring change where’er it’s light passes by. Oh star of wonder, star of night, royal star whose shining eye regards our abode. On that silent night, when long knives, their toil cease; their owners sleep; their rage, peace erodes. Like a dove, peace descends in radiant light on that silent night when all is calm, all is bright, to alight on aspirants who struggle for peace ’till it’s in their palms. For them that star shines, torches … Continue reading Star of Change

The Nutcracker

The Nutcracker (Picks up where The Rusted King and the Drum left off) Three fairies perched on sainted heads; halos ringed their whispered conference; while below drum beats ceased as drummer boy and son, made slow progress to the doors, while echoes still hum. ‘Twas clear to the fairies that the duo had no a clue ’bout the season’s reason for celebration; they can’t let that go. Ignorance is a war that must be won! So off they floated after the drummer and his son through quiet halls of fortress, hiding in mosaic glow, their dimmer fairy light, they’d an … Continue reading The Nutcracker

Armadillo Dreams

Armadillo Dreams Armored shell enclosed, it digs and burrows. Rarely out at night, it’s nocturnal but My trusty Armadillo friend, sorrows. As he swings his tail, wishing he’s a mutt. Dragon wings, he’d have, the better to fly Into the sky, where clouds’ kiss, brush his snout. Like a beast of myth, he’d spit fire, fly high Let sunlight gild his scales and poems spout On moonless evenings with wizards and wights, Dreaming as they scheme of overthrowing Regents of evil intent, who hold light, Ever bright, captive in surreal drawings. Alas, but for an accident of fate– My armadillo’s dreams won’t be sated. … Continue reading Armadillo Dreams

Light the Tree

Light the Tree (Picks up where Seconds left off) Sarn watched his son hang button hearts on boughs. Assembled from fallen branches, it stood e’en with Sarn’s head, those once enchanted boughs. Still some magic left in their dying wood. Sparks of green winked in its needles and bark. Still a collection of dead things arranged and decorated with symbols, no part for him in this thing that was prearranged. “It should glow,” Ran said, hanging the last heart. “It can’t because the branches are dying. Not enough magic left to do its part.” Sarn shrugged; Ran didn’t find that satisfying. Neither did Sarn … Continue reading Light the Tree


Seconds (Picks up where The Nutcracker left off) Nolo paused, caught half in, half out; a spy arrested by a scar, he’d come seconds too late to prevent; he’d saved the Kid’s eye, but not his face, too late by mere seconds. Yet just in time to save Sarn’s life, just so he could wreck it at sixteen by getting a girl with child. ‘Till that tree’s just so, that child is constantly rearranging. He was at it now though he’d enlisted help with the high branches and there they stood, young father and son, as the tree listed. A ball dropped, knocked … Continue reading Seconds

Button Holed

Button Holed (Picks up where Second Thoughts left off) “Between the shadow and the soul, I love you like a dark thing in secret,” she sang as flies buzzed around her head, while above, a boy sat making button hearts to hang. Sarn crouched down to see what his son had made. “For the tree,” Ran held a button heart strung with thread; Sarn took it and with a hug paid for its creation; hearing what was sung, and not liking its lyrics, he took his son into the suite and back to homey things suited to a child’s ears, only to run straight into … Continue reading Button Holed

The Rusted King and the Drum

The Rusted King and the Drum (Picks up where Between Dreams and Boats left off) Rusted nails twisted into a diadem. Three blood stones set in place of precious jewels. On a scrap heap he sprawled with a ripped hem. The King of Nimbledon, liege-lord of fools, price of thieves and bully boys–pay him heed all you creatures of the night, pickpockets, lock breakers, streetwalkers. Orphans bend knee to this tyrant, who reigns with a socket wrench for a scepter that calls all to order. His court of thugs, cheats and scruffy children wait to see who’ll be nailed to the girder. … Continue reading The Rusted King and the Drum

Second Thoughts

Second Thoughts (Picks up where Sparring left off) An open door framed the Christmas tree from where Sarn sat on the edge of his bed, his son’s head pillowed on his thigh, but from that angle what was visible instead, was not the silver fringe unraveled. The tree spoke of things unknown, begged questions with every hanging ornament and bell. Evergreen sprigs and wreaths–decorations that changed the familiar terrain leaving him confused at night, wond’ring where currents of this season would take him next, wond’ring if flight might’ve been best ‘fore his son learnt of this ‘Christmas’. The boy knew it existed, too late to file it away … Continue reading Second Thoughts

Dancing in the Sun

Dancing in the Sun She’s dancing in the sun and in its light, reveling in the setting day, laying to rest all our woes as night creeps into sight. Its purple, spangled allure is rolling on in and swallowing the east. In its folds she hooks her fingers and pulls, blanketing Shayari in sleep’s release. While in the west, she dances, a joyful spark on the horizon, moving daylight west and allowing those behind to rest. She dances ’round the globe raising dawn’s light and pushing out night ‘fore it can oppress. She’s dancing with the sun, whose rays caress, … Continue reading Dancing in the Sun


Reflections Concentric rings disrupted the image reflected in the pool; drips from fingers dropped onto that watery assemblage where a pair of glowing green eyes linger. Sarn turned his back on the water’s mirror and the stalactite’s slow weeping to pace. His son continued making rings appear and glowing stones’ reflections dance in place. “Why you sad?” Ran asked, eyes on his canvas. “Not sad just–” Sarn broke off, magic crested, he breathed in deep, and fought it down en mass. It strained ‘gainst mental chains, then rested. Deep breath, water plinks, a touch to his leg, a hug, but he feels like a powder keg. ~ ~ ~ He’s walking, … Continue reading Reflections

The Bloodcrow

The Bloodcrow Through an aperture, he saw the Bloodcrow sift through the bodies scattered on the track. Dread hammered nails in his apathy, sowed a frantic beat in his veins, magic jacked… “Papa, wake up. You’re having a bad dream.” Small hands patted Sarn’s face, empyreal radiance cut ‘cross the scene in green beams. His magic threw the dream, reached for the real. Ran pancaked into a relieved embrace. Sarn blinked away that dream but its presence lingered like a whalebone in a back brace– still pressing its unwanted influence. “Why you not have good dreams?” Ran still held tight. “‘Cause fanatics did bad things in … Continue reading The Bloodcrow