“You’re certain this will work?” The charm, clasped in Anna’s smooth young hand, was redolent of rose hips, cinnamon, and sweet basil…and something exotic from the far southern lands. Eyes shining with hopeful, as yet unshed tears, she clasped the woven bag to her breast.
He shambles out of the park, swaying side-to-side, shyly dominating the Midtown sidewalk. Sun glints in his blonde-bronze pelt, furry toes squashing—or shall we say “squatching”?—his platform flip-flops. Continue reading “An Urban Truth”
She leaned over the big black cauldron, face partially occluded in the shifting steam. Chopping and shredding, she added a pinch of this, a breath of that. Continue reading “Tale for a Winter’s Night”
A single star streaked through the wind-slashed northern night, highlighting the ice shards that skittered across the glacier and collected on the pelt of Magnhild. Shivering, she howled as another contraction rippled through her body, and dropped to her knees. She panted and leaned against the single granite outcropping that pushed through the otherwise flat, blue expanse, broken only by shifting dunes of snow. Continue reading “Tale from the Land of the Midnight Sun: Hjordis”
“’Tis our best hope of marshaling all forces of Man and Nature,”retorted the old woman, her lavender cape, the only warm color for miles, whipping about her bony shoulders in the dry wind. “Plus, the light is better. Image is everything—well, nearly everything–for this plan.”
“You’re remarkably hip for an old crone,” she remarked, “But if you don’t slow down, Hjordis may drop her young one right here on the path.” Continue reading “Miracles, Madness and Hjordis”
“If believing makes it so, we have double-hope. We shall see, anon.” She gripped the blue button, and shuffled up the hill.