It could have been a field of flowers, apricot sunrise honeying all. It could have been a berry patch, spread round with her the center, fingers damp with morning dew. It might’ve even been a dragon’s hoard, doubloons spilling from ruby-studded chalices, heavy pendants on worked, chain necklaces, diamond and emerald tiara resting on her head, proclaiming her queen of all she surveyed. Continue reading
I lift my paddle for a moment, hearing but not noting the drip of water that slides off its smooth, blond curve. My canoe slices through the morning cool, bisecting and self-healing the waters as I pass. Below the dark water, silent lake grass caresses sand and small, secret pebbles. Continue reading
She stands in the shadows of the hidden cove, pebbles clacking quietly under her bare feet, salt water lapping at her toes.
“What does she want?” the ocean wonders. “Is she here as supplicant, queen, or warrior?” Continue reading
The very first hour before sunrise is the most powerful time of day. Continue reading
Spoon coffee grounds into the BPA-free filter, the scent a bright hit in the ice-crystal kitchen. Cat slurps his morning meal, shoulders hunched protectively over his bowl. Continue reading
Contemporary Dark Fiction and Poetry
poetry and prose
Making literary art accessible 99 words at a time!
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fiction and reflections by Margaret Sefton
Life in progress
Write or write not - there is no aspiring.
Poetry and Commentary that Smells
poetry, fiction, art, books, retro
A dose of fetish. Good friends. An incomparable muse.
Valley of the Trolls 