The rain hammered on the streets, running from rivulets to rivers and sinking into bone as it roared from the sky. Carral hurried through the ruins, looking for shelter. With the stinging silver rains came the fog. And with the fogs came the... things.
On the day she was to be given to the dragon who lived in the mountain depths, Sukhon took the wicked knife she had laid beneath her mattress and hid it in her voluminous silken sleeves.
Rearing high
Into a clear blue sky
Now we dance
Gyrate from side to side.
“I don’t know!” Amanda bellowed back from behind the relative safety of the kitchen island bench, clutching her grandpapa’s recipe book to her chest. Eyes screwed shut, as if it might go away if she didn’t look at it, she pulled her knees closer to her chest. “You were supposed to be a pie!”
Schools of memories in whirling, gleaming whorls and twisting dances scattered at her advance, flashing into darkness with bursts of light that illuminated, for the briefest of moments, their attendant thoughts until the dusky river swallowed them whole.
Hopefully it was territory-bound and wouldn't leave the cavern. I didn't know. I'd never encountered a manticore before.
What do you mean you want to hear about the crayon incident?
Look, it’s not important. Those crayons were just very flammable. We’re talking about cats here, pay attention.
The sigils were etched into the floor, carved deep into the highly polished wood with adze and awl and knife.
This story contains potential triggers.
In the distant past, when all creatures spoke the same language and magic flowed through the air as water flowed over the riverbed, there was a cave. In more modern times it would be called the cave of Chinhoyi, for the brave leader who sheltered his people from adversaries in its labyrinthine depths, but in those far-off days it had another name.
Frank glanced nervously around the room, once, twice, not taking in any of the furniture. His eyes darted to the window. It was sunny outside, a glorious day filled with light and laughter.
