Home for ChristmasHome for ChristmasHome for Christmas by MangoSundae
When I finally left home for good, I moved to another city to take a year-long course in database programming. Before long, this course proved to be not only more intense than I had expected, but so boring that I began doubting whether I would even complete it.
As a matter of necessity, my leisure pursuits such as drawing and creative writing came to get less and less of my time. This soon made me realize just how important these activities were to me, and these restrictions began making the year even more difficult.
Somehow I occasionally found the time to go to a church near my apartment. As Christmas neared, some of the people I had met began making plans to produce a condensed stage version of “A Christmas Carol.” Rehearsals would begin about the time my studies finished and my work term started, and this slight ease of pressure afforded me the luxury of participating.
When I auditioned I ended up with two roles, Fezziwig and one of the g
DaffodilsDaffodilsDaffodils by MangoSundae
I had just moved into a cheap rooming house to attend college, and was finding all this sudden anonymity unnerving. The building consisted of only two dozen small rooms in front and one dozen larger rooms in the back, but up to this point it was the largest collection of humanity I had ever shared an address with. I tried not to imagine all the unknowns living under the same roof.
The long-haired young man in the room next to mine looked a bit scruffy, but after I talked to him, he seemed okay enough. He had the curious habit of never locking his door, not even when he went out. This made some sense when he pointed out he had nothing in his room for anyone to steal. It made more sense again when I learned that he had just been released from prison.
Late in April, a charitable society began its yearly flower selling campaign selling to raise funds. I gave in to the impulse to buy a bunch of them.
Home again, I popped the flowers into a glass and set
Three WishesThree WishesThree Wishes by MangoSundae
It was one of the few classrooms in the Science Building with no windows. The furnace had served us well all winter, but now it was well into spring and no one had informed the heating system of this fact. In the stifling closeness, it was all I could do to stay awake, and the heavy-lidded faces around me told me I wasn’t the only one. The coffee had long since worn off and lunch time couldn’t come quickly enough.
The room was on the top floor of the Science building, a long climb up and a long way down again to the cafeteria. To add to our misery, the room didn’t even have a clock. I kept sneaking glimpses at my wristwatch, but the hands seemed to be stuck.
It was nearing the end of one of those long mornings toward the end of a long semester. As the prof droned on and on, I wished this class would end so I could escape this dreary room and trade the tedium for lunch.
I was nearing the end of a course of studies that had taken longer than they s
Can you control it?A deterioration into something greater,Can you control it? by Silver-cLaw
Consider the madness a means to an end -- a shadow, a demon that must be tamed.
Control it, if you can, or it will control you.
A God Needs a ProphetThey lined up along the road without protest.A God Needs a Prophet by Silver-cLaw
It was the first time any sect this far North had seen three daemons at once, but they knew what they were facing. Anyone who so much as passed through had word of the trio and their whereabouts -- it was just a matter of time before they made their rounds here.
“Shoulder to shoulder,” ordered the brawns of the group, a daemon who chose to take on stereotypically Russian features. Dache, he was called.
The blonde-haired-blue-eyed one, Jerid, stood beside the trio’s head with a look of mirth seemingly glued to his face. He presented the batch of victims with a wave of his hand and a superfluous bow of his head.
Isaac, notably the lankiest, stood before the captive residents and watched them with an eagle’s glare. His skin was a deep bronze, complemented by dark hair and unnaturally green eyes. He was known for his black cloth gloves and the bandana covering his mouth and nose.
A permeating silence hung in the air like
Royal BloodThe blood on his hand was as blue and dark as the river.Royal Blood by Silver-cLaw
He curled his fingers around the impossible liquid. It slid between the wrinkles of his palm and dripped down to taint the water’s edge. In his other hand, he held the curved, engraved blade, Saalihn, stained with the evidence of his handiwork.
“His blood is blue,” he said to no one.
Gareth pulled out the match from his belt and struck it against a dry rock. In one swipe, the tip was lit, and he dropped it on the pile of gathered twigs at his feet.
“You knew that already,” the gruff fairy replied.
Hilt turned his hand to watch the beads of blue blood roll over his skin. “I know. But I never actually believed it.”
Gareth took one glance at his apprentice and could only sigh. He flitted over, grabbed the sword from his hands and dunked it in the water.
“Wash yourself too before it stains you for good,” he told him, though it was clear the words fell on deaf ears. “Nevermin
Bo.When Lindsay was born, Bo was there. Standing beside her mother, he was the first thing she ever saw. But he was not her father; her father stood on the other side.Bo. by Silver-cLaw
Bo was there until the very moment she died.
The sun shone bright through the windows of her pink-laden room. She loved pink. And black.
“Because Bo is black,” she’d told her parents.
Her imaginary friend, they soon concluded.
“Bo is all black,” she described one night as her father tucked her in, “His skin and his hair and everything. He doesn’t talk a lot.”
Her father frowned.
“He sounds scary.”
“He’s not,” she insisted.
Bo sat on the bed and said nothing.
Her father kissed her good night and turned out the light.
“Why can’t Dad see you?” she asked.
“Are you real?”
“Are you real?” he replied.
“How do you know?”