Calvaria

Such a juxtaposition is this. Between vibrant rock and stone, Creatures of death walk silent trails. Their feet whispering between slices of orange and striations of gold. The Calvarig. Those who worship The Gate at the end of life, Who embrace the unknown, With arms of an inhuman design. And minds connected as one part … More Calvaria

The North

Photo by Todd McKinley Oh to the North I am called, Upon a voice full of ice and snow. Between the mountains Atrox I am drawn to begin. Foot upon foot, step upon wintery step. Where creatures of ice and starvation thrive, and the green world shrinks from view. Home. I am called home, upon … More The North

The Whispering Wood

  “Do you hear it?” Madra whispered in my ear. We stood by the edge of a chilled lake. I knew my breath was fogging in the frozen air, but the usual lines of silver and gray vibrated around in my head. My broken eyes could not see, but the rest of my body compensated. … More The Whispering Wood

Mountains of Darkwell

The wind whistled between reeds as I stepped from the car. Inside my kids lay fast asleep tucked away in warm blankets. Beyond me stretch a dirt road and causeway, surrounded by half frozen cattails and long grass. Frozen ponds lay to either side of the road, products of a harsh winter. And to the … More Mountains of Darkwell

A Growing Storm

Can you feel it? Disturbing the very air we breathe. It presses upon my mind as a blanket of wet leaves that never seem to stop falling. A storm is coming. Whether it comes, I know not save it brings death and destruction. But all about are the signs of peace and content, not a … More A Growing Storm

A World Unbalanced

It is said the gods are dead, long from the beginning of time. We are surrounded by a cosmos, unhelmed, unmanned. A rock skipping across water. Wanton destruction ravages existence, flooding the void with death. But hark now, listen the unbalance is calling. As sure as day follows night, the world must right its wrongs. Men … More A World Unbalanced

Reality Takes Leave

“My dear Emiline, you simply must face the facts. Your parents were not carried off by a,” Governess Metlock waved a hand in Emiline’s direction. The white lace trim of her black satin sleeve danced in the stale air, “what did you say? Winged bear?” Emiline sat in a straight-backed chair, her feet swinging through the air. … More Reality Takes Leave