Join us for a weekly blog party in Six Sentence Stories, hosted by Denise and attended by some mighty fine, fun folk. Prompt word=SWING. Read, write and come back for moreSIX SENTENCE STORIES. (Link goes active Wed night).
And so the deal was struck, no papers signed, no ink, The watchers called for protection spells: Ones built on love and trust and luck. Montay’d practiced widening shift, forms Ferah’d never kenned, Per Jimman’s skilled direction: games in wild pleasure meant Montay the fool was well and truly fucked.
Join us for a weekly blog party in Six Sentence Stories, hosted by Denise and attended by some mighty fine, fun folk. Prompt word=SWING. Read, write and come back for moreSIX SENTENCE STORIES. (Link goes active Wed night).
Watcher Doings 36
“I’m fae, but I’m no Faery Queen!” roared Jimann.
“Sometimes you are,” said Montay and Ferah in unison catching each other’s eye and giggling nervously as they spoke again in unison, “and we really don’t mind when you swing both ways!”
“I’m not familiar with the ballad of Tam Lin,” grumbled Jimann, ignoring the two, and squaring his shoulders he added, “I’ve never been much of a fan of ballads or…ugh…poetry.”
Join us for a weekly blog party in Six Sentence Stories, hosted by Denise and attended by some mighty fine, fun folk. Prompt word=FLOAT. Read, write and come back for moreSIX SENTENCE STORIES. (Link goes active Wed night).
Another Two-For-One in this serial that’s gone on a lot longer that I’d anticipated!
Watcher Doings 34
Jimann, having chosen a size and visage meant to both terrify and nauseate, grabbed Montay by his opposite wrist and sneered at Ferah, “Either you come with me now and endorse me as Supreme Emperor of the Council of Peace Keepers, as well as the Brotherhood of Gnomes, or I crush what’s left of your foolish brother under my diamond hoof and finish up by murdering the rest of your friends here!”
A two-fer for you, with episodes 32 & 33 NEW this week Woot!!
Join us for a weekly blog party in Six Sentence Stories, hosted by Denise and attended by some mighty fine, fun folk. Prompt word=FLY. Read, write and come back for moreSIX SENTENCE STORIES. (Link goes active Wed night).
“Me?!” scoffed Ferah, then admitting, “Okay, yes, Jimann was very distracting at first…”
“Oh yes,” Montay murmured, smiling with memory and feeling a heated rush beneath the tunic he’d borrowed from his sister, adding almost absently, “there was that thing he does with his tongues…”
Join us for a weekly blog party in Six Sentence Stories, hosted by Denise and attended by some mighty fine, fun folk. Prompt word=FLY. Read, write and come back for moreSIX SENTENCE STORIES. (Link goes active Wed night).
Perhaps they’d spent too much time down at the lake, reconnecting as siblings after what seemed like too long an absence, but Lady Lake observed and approved so it was time well-invested; the bay had settled into twilit quiet when Ferah and Montay climbed the stairs to reach topside, and Redrue had set wards around the one and a half acres of property also drawing a salt circle that enclosed the yard, house and shed, and another within this circle that enclosed the yard with the Weber grill and its glowing embers.
Join us for a weekly blog party in Six Sentence Stories, hosted by Denise and attended by some mighty fine, fun folk. Prompt word=SIGN. Read, write and come back for moreSIX SENTENCE STORIES. (Link goes active Wed night).
“Sure you won’t have a quick dip in the lake—it’ll purify, too, thanks to Lady Lake—before putting on my spare tunic?” Holding the garment in one hand, Ferah gazed at her brother, breathing through her mouth; he’d been picking off the remaining flaps of molting skin and holding them up to let the breeze catch and carry them away.
Join us for a weekly blog party in Six Sentence Stories, hosted by Denise and attended by some mighty fine, fun folk. Prompt word=GROUND. Read, write and come back for moreSIX SENTENCE STORIES. (Link goes active Wed night).
(Pause to author sipping cold coffee as she gazes, dismayed, at the piles of springtime paperwork to be filed, the folder holding pages of notes from workshopping another long short story/possible novella, and emails reminding her that edits are due for a group project. The heels of her hands are cold and she realizes she needs to drape the green wool shawl over her shoulders because no sunshine today; she will not regret the last several days out walking in sunshine and snowmelt in the February false Spring.)
***
Picture this instead: Ferah and Rockmouse have caught their breath and Rockmouse covers ground in split seconds to wrangle the other gnomes into some kind of order so that the Weber barbecue can be saved, oranges confiscated, and dinner be served up, while Ferah slips silently across pine needled ground to the shed and gently opens the door to find her brother Montay, exhausted and naked, lying on the floor in human form, bits of snakeskin stuck to his glistening skin (never shapeshift while molting; he is nauseated, too).
Valley of the Trolls 