Excerpt

The Eternal Dance
I do not wish to know you said the light, the Source Darkness was gentle & silent, it stretched far wrapped around the light
By Raena Skyy12 months ago in Fiction
The Pause or Echoes of Goodbye
The coffee shop was quiet except for the gentle hum of a jazz playlist crackling through old speakers. The winter evening had settled in, wrapping the city in a veil of frost. Inside, the warm glow of the pendant lights reflected off the steam rising from their mugs. Claire wrapped her hands around her coffee, staring at the swirls of foam dissolving into the dark brew. Across from her, Nathan tapped his fingers against the table - an erratic rhythm that betrayed the calm he tried to project.
By Aroma12 months ago in Fiction
Caged Bird Act 7
Dove ended up leaving the Tearooms feeling fuzzy. She had reassured the twins she was staying no further than ten minutes away and was fine to walk back (blooming into Mrs Chevey's inn wasn’t possible, security measures and all). It was the best interaction she’d had in weeks, she thought. But the conversation from earlier, and the sketchy figures outside swirled in her mind. She still felt the buzz of fire seep through her veins, and something else too. Something darker. How did she know it was darker? Things were changing for Dove, and not just on the outside.
By Essie12 months ago in Fiction
Caged Bird Act 6
Dove readied herself, shifting the magic through her body with a calm hum. The doll lunged forwards, but Dove kept her left hand ready for Kitty’s sneak attack. Roiling fire surged in her, and she struck the doll, aiming for its face. It reflected by lifting a gnarled arm, and in the short moment of distraction Kitty had moved in from the side, magic rumbling through her. Dove moved quick, and the magic seeping through her blood seemed to obey its own desires. Aiming again for the doll with her eyes still on Dove, she heard the crackle of fire burning its feet and dodged a pelt of rocks aiming for her torso. She breathed out, eyes flickering to the doll, and changed her mind. The fire leaked from her hands, smoke enrapturing each on-looker. Creating this tense little bubble, Dove willed the smoke to come out thicker. Darker. Feeling something old and intense run through her, she watched with almost fascination as the smoke formed a large shield around Kitty. Her earth magic should be able to penetrate the walls but hearing Kitty’s grunts gave Dove hope: she had time. The doll, now her only enemy, lunged once more, angry for the missed shot before. The doll’s fingers sizzled with surging heat, and Dove’s eyes locked onto the lightning zeal. It sputtered, willing the doll to be thrown onto its target. Dove reared back, shooting a quick glance at Kitty. The smoke had grown, black spikes of magic surging around her. Dove faintly heard her fellow fighters murmuring. This was something new. It felt angry. Dove channelled every intense feeling she was harbouring, and allowed it to flow out of her, billowing smoke clouds brimming with dark zeal. Dove couldn’t help but smile, her fire magic really had been advancing. Changing. Dove had lingered too long one spot, and the gnarled doll ducked low, and its hand swiped viciously for Dove’s stomach. She faltered, dropping low too. This was a mistake. She warned the right hand away, but caught sight too late of another lightning-filled fist aim for her eyes and was unsure what happened next. Seeps of dark fire exploded, she thought of the wall in her back garden, her father's angry voice, and connected a kick with some part of the doll hard. Kitty was beating through a small hole inside the smoke cloud, but Dove had eyes for only the doll, and sent angry waves into the gnarled thing, until it was blackened and dusty. The ignition of the doll took so much power, that Kitty had destructed the shield with a generous burst of thick gravel raining from above her. She was sweaty and cocked her head at Dove before sending the mass of rock after her. Dove hit the floor but repelled most of the pieces with an inferno. Dove turned and watched Kitty dodge behind her. Dove cracked her knuckles and felt the heat bubble within her once more. A hand of fire reached around Kitty. It pounded her against the wall, and the gurgling white hot finger threatened to make her face wax. “You look warm, Kitty.”
By Essie12 months ago in Fiction
The Skylight Room
Once upon a time, in the heart of a bustling city, stood an old boarding house on a quiet, winding street. Among its many rooms, nestled at the very top, was the smallest yet most enchanting of them all—the Skylight Room. The room was tiny, barely large enough to fit a single bed, a wooden chair, and a small desk. But what it lacked in size, it made up for in charm. A single skylight, framed by weathered wooden beams, opened up to the heavens, offering a breathtaking view of the stars at night and the sun's golden embrace at dawn.
By Himansu Kumar Routray12 months ago in Fiction
Ineliminable Collapse
Elvira Ransom is a monster. Carved and sewn. A living, crafted marionette monster. Something deeply unknown. Deeply disturbed. Monsters are known. Monsters don’t sew. They’re turned inside out, flesh and bones replaced by teeth and claws. The stitching lines glow from such profundity, a mirrored stack of lines. Cobwebbed, often frangible. Ransom. Elvira. The monster fogging my identity, metamorphosing its own existence. And I am a slave to compliance. I’ve bled for it. I’ve known its retribution, and I have transposed everything that used to rest on that acacia branch. A different kind of growth resides inside me now. Inside Elvira Ransom. From Elvira Ransom. But why doesn’t it stretch upwards? Why don’t I stop it? Could I stop her? Could Frankenstein stop the destruction of his own marionette monster? He bled for that too. Are you scared of her? Do you think you should be?
By Essie12 months ago in Fiction
Caged Bird Act 5
Dove left the dark alley and re-joined the warm light of Mookaite. The largest shop sat on a corner, brightly lit from the shade of green emitted from inside. This shop belonged to Kitty and Peggy Moonan, twin sisters that she knew from their days at Chiaroscuro, as they were in the same allotment. Chiaroscuro Chamber was a small academy of training sorceresses, and sorcerers. It was heavily female dominated. Like all witchcraft. Although being twins, Kitty was the one who wore glasses, and Peggy had changed her hair to pink (The rest of their family had golden hair, although Peggy was changing the colour every week, she could never decide- she once had it bright green for a year, now that was interesting in classes).
By Essie12 months ago in Fiction
Caged Bird Act 4
Thorne watched her walk off from the grimy upstairs window. He leaned on the banister, feeling the smell of her leave, and sighed. Her silver hair shone bright with the reappearing sun. He remembered her scent, poppies and smoke. He’d been jolted. Usually such a killer instinct, sure he likes to be playful. But there was a wanting to be buried in her silver hair once more. She was like a flower, freshly sprung. Freshly picked. But there was something underneath the petals, something hungry. A thorn in your palm. She was a little annoying truthfully, the way she hadn’t been scared. The dark magic had affected her in a strange way. An unexpected way.
By Essie12 months ago in Fiction
The Man Who Knew Tomorrow
Ethan Clarke had always known what was going to happen. Not in a supernatural way, not with visions or voices. He simply woke up each morning with a clear knowledge of the day ahead—what conversations he’d have, what news would break, even the smallest details like which song would play on the radio.
By Hridoy Hasan12 months ago in Fiction
Caged Bird Act 3
Dove scraped the hair off her face, as sunlight hit her eyes. Was she outside? Dove sat up; clothes damp with dewy grass. She had fallen asleep outside. There was a pulsing in her throat. That’s when she snapped her head up, feeling thorns in her palms. She studied them closely, feeling like this garden had eyes on her. She pulled them away, working surgically. What had brought her out here? The question tingled in her brain like a bell on a gong. There was a darkness resting on her brain, her eyelids, her entire body. Nothing but a black cloud swirled inside her mind's eye. She let her eyes fall on the crowns of roses, the scarlet-coloured bench, and a paintbrush. Why was there a paintbrush out here? Was she painting in her sleep?
By Essie12 months ago in Fiction
Whispers Beneath the Redwoods
Whispers Beneath the Redwoods The towering redwoods of Northern California stood like ancient sentinels, their branches weaving a canopy so dense that sunlight barely kissed the forest floor. For centuries, they had witnessed the passage of time—the rise and fall of civilizations, the whispers of lovers, the cries of the lost. But deep within the heart of the forest, where the air grew heavy with the scent of pine and earth, there was a secret. A secret that called to those who dared to listen.
By Himansu Kumar Routray12 months ago in Fiction
Caged Bird Act 1
Dove tinkled the tiny golden bell that hangs from the overgrown bridge and watches the ground in front of her sink down, beckoning her down into the beauty of Mookaite Park. Plum trees welcomed her, and cherry blossoms guarded the white brick walls like soldiers. Pink, purple and black cottages weaved their way up the cobbled road, beckoning in visitors. Crystallised blocks towered over them, sparkling gently, large windows carved into their faces. Candles and lanterns hung mid-air, illuminating the gorgeous pocket that only belonged to magic folk. The park spread out like a portrait come alive. The moon was near full, and shone on the windowpanes of Chevey Inn, which were covered in daisies and daffodils, a pretty reminder of blooming spring. The little old lady that answered the door was more than welcoming, a purple crystal hat sat atop her bushy head. She gave Dove a large, rusty key for her room, whilst pushing a steamy hot of cocoa into her hands with a smile. Mrs Chevey, the owner, led her to the room at the end of the corridor, and bid her goodnight. She smelled like cinnamon and coffee. She was sweet. Dove was still rather shaken from the events of the night, so she collapsed into bed, and found Mrs Chevey’s affections more than comforting. She threw off her jacket and the ripped tights, tossing them on the floor. Her stomach was still a ball of knots from the breath of that man, his whisper in her ear, his body holding her against the tree, the look in his eye. She still couldn't exactly figure out what it was. Her bed also smelled of lavender, and she fell asleep with most of her clothes still on, the curtains open too, which allowed the waxing crescent moonlight from the sky to flood in, and the twinkling of crystals sang her to sleep.
By Essie12 months ago in Fiction