Fable

Maggie and the Selkie
That morning the bodies were counted. Twelve in all, and one still missing. Hamish. When the families took the bodies home to prepare them for burial, Maggie sneaked down to the beach to walk the shoreline. Five miles north, and five miles south. Through her tears, every piece of driftwood and kelp was a human figure; an arm reaching for help, a crumpled body found too late. Maggie’s hope disappeared with the sun and a low, slow groaning emerged from her throat as she sank to the sand. The pain in her heart was so strong she didn’t notice the water rising around her, the cold seeping into her skin.
By Heather Ewings5 years ago in Fiction
Raven's Sacrifice
Once Raven was white, from the tip of her beak to the tip of her tail and the points of her claws. Though she was a bird of the earth, her pale colouring meant she could mingle with the spirits of the heavens; the angels and daemons of the bright, bright skies; those from whose lips poetry sprang, and whose songs carried a beauty so exquisite all who heard them wept. Raven spent many a day and night with these beings, watching as they drank the sparkling waters from the Well of Inspiration, listening as they gave voice to their creations. Sometimes she joined with them, for hers was a sweet song, and many stopped to hear her music.
By Heather Ewings5 years ago in Fiction