Blank Page

Hello white screen.

I’m here to stare at you again.

I have hopes that your magic powers of illumination will draw the Words from my brain.

Pulling them from the core of me, as my eyes stare beyond you into Universes still unknown to the world.

Yet you sit there.  Empty.

You are the one with greater power, scaring my ideas away.

Intimidating me, with your flashy white teeth, the ink wont bleed and discolor your face.

Perhaps we need to chat about my pursuits.

You see, I am trying to write a story.

As you flash the cursor line at me, blinking anxiously as my fingers wait to patter away at the keys…..

This is nonsense.  I should be greater than you!  I can slay you with that tiny little X at the top corner!  I can will you to go away!

……however, this causes me more problems than it does you.  You will smile one last time with a wicked laugh as you flash away victorious.

How do we meld our minds so that we might summon the words peacefully?  Drawing from my inner pool of creation as one might a fountain?

Blank page, I think of you all the day long.  I think of the words I might put to you.  The stories I anxiously wish to tell…..

And yet you remain.  Here.  Untouched.

Intimacy we should share!  My heart would overflow to you in a precarious romance, in which I slaughter my soul at the eyes of the world.

Summon from me words.  I beg you.

Draw each of them out.  Rend my soul if you must.  Just let them flow.

Caught Daydreaming

Our eyes meet through the glass.  My heart skips and tension constricts my throat.

Flustered I stand silently beside you, as though we are old friends and this is not the first we meet.

I wonder what you think, desiring to know everything filling your mind.

Nervous, awkward, I fish for words.  Irony, being a wordsmith with none on my tongue.

Desperately I wish to just stare at you.  Study you.  Take you in.  Memorize every detail as you sit across the table, before moving to my side.

Under scrutiny, I do not stare.  I hold my breath finding words for the first time -though, they do not flow as I might wish.

Amid the constant distraction, I am aware of warmth.  You are there beside me.  It is real.

Every little detail swirls in a fog of delightful memory.  Memories to recall forever.

A gentle guiding press, directing as we walk.  When we stop your eyes pierce my soul, sending electricity through my chest.  I have never known a “spark”.  Who knew they felt like lightning?

Is this how Imprinting should feel?  Searing into my chest forever the wondrous desire for you?

Faet & Fantasy : Breigh

Dashing about to complete her work on time, Kiena wasn’t entirely sure how she would still have time to change before the dinner.

Having successfully avoided the Winter Fae after that day, she was now faced with mandatory presence at the welcome dinner.

The colony at Raven’s Dell always had a welcoming dinner, and Kiena generally volunteered to decorate.  Her magic conjured joy, and she would spend countless hours enchanting table decorations to boost the mood.  Every once in a while frustration would show up and discolor the object she was enchanting.  It was tedious expressing joy for so long during mundane tasks.

This year, considering all she felt was melancholy and sadness, she did not volunteer to decorate.  In fact, with the manipulation of atmosphere sure to toy with her mood she felt no inclination to go either.

Sighing heavily, Kiena looked through her wardrobe to figure out what to wear.

The image of the winter fae smiling at her and shaking his head flashed in her memory, causing Kiena to flinch with embarrassment.

After a few moments she was dressed and ready to go.

El Niño

A little boy emerged from the sea looking for his playmate.

Once he emerged, and the world welcomed him.

A second time, chaos ensued and the people scoffed.

They shook their fists at the sky, they threw their hands up in the air.  Some wept, others laughed.

Angry, the little boy confused their seasons, scattering the Winter in strange places.

Where piles should drift, there were none.

Where ice should be dripping, rain fell instead.

Frustrated the people continued to complain.

The little boy did not relent.

Meanwhile groundhogs everywhere laughed, playing with the boy as he ran through the fields and forests looking for his playmate.  Still she could not be found.

While Mother Nature slept her children were up to no good.

Faet and Fantasy : Kiena

Kiena circled the glen slowly, wrapped in thought.  Her eyes mindlessly scanning the flowers she buzzed past, her hair gently whisked at her face.  She held an arm behind her back, keeping her toes pointed to the ground while in flight. Instead of watching where she was going the fae started when fur collided with her face.

Grinby, her dearest fox friend barked in surprise.

“Oh, I apologize Grinby.”  Kiena spit fur from her mouth, pulling a strand of decent length from her tongue.

“You’ve been quite distracted lately, Kiena,” Grinby chuckled.

“I don’t mean to be.”  Her eyes stayed focused beyond the ground, her expression still blank.  “I’ve lost all sense of direction since they left.”

They being Rynn and Acacia.

Grinby offered a smile meant to comfort, though foxes rarely can look empathetic beyond their natural pointed scowl.  “I know my dear.  We all hate to see you like this.  Is there anything I can do?”

Kiena shook her head, her black curly tresses bouncing untamed with the motion.  Her empty eyes seemed to glisten as she quickly wiped her nose and looked away, “It wouldn’t help anyway, I’m fine.”  She sniffed once, smiling to Grinby without cheer.

Grinby nodded slowly, “Well, I was off to the cubs to bring in dinner.  If you need anything, you know where to find us.”

“Thank you,” Kiena said trying to appear sincere, though she knew it wasn’t working.

The fox left, and the faerie decided it best to try to head home.  Twilight began setting in, early though it was as winter approached.  A chilly wind gusted suddenly.  Kiena braced herself against it, welcoming the cold.  Soon she could shiver and others wouldn’t ask if she were alright.

And why did they ask anyway?  What could anyone do about it?

There was more silver lining to be thankful for, she reminded herself.  The winter fae would be migrating again, and no doubt they would take attention off of her for a few months so Kiena could finally mend her sullen mood.

Lit mushroom lanterns dotted the tiny village as she made it back to Raven Dell.  Some of the fae were out dancing at a festival of sorts near the top of the rocky face.  Perhaps it was a birthday for a youngling?

The image brought back the memory of Rynn and Acacia’s wedding.  It had been a lovely event.  Acacia had been a vision of a bride.  Her blonde hair shining like gold to offset her burgundy dress.  Rynn had not taken his eyes off her the entire night.  He was enchanted with the fae.

Tears blurred Kiena’s vision again and she quickly ducked inside her tiny home.

Her main room looked out into a cleft of the dell where she could watch passersby.  Tonight, she did not light the candle on her table, she simply went into her room and stretched out on the bed going instantly to sleep.

Blank Pages

Glaring white stares blankly at me.

The pages beg to be filled, and yet the words don’t come.

Nothing comes.

A jumble, a mess.  A train crash of thoughts scattered about.

To have sanity.  A semblance of direction, even just a moment when everything might be still.

Transitioning, they call it.  Becoming something new.  Entering something new.  Stepping out in the world alone.

But not so alone.  Compassion guides with a steady hand, and two young ones depend entirely on me.

And still the page stares blank.  The pen wont move.  The words don’t form.

How is one to write fiction, when surrealism has taken over?  It all feels as fiction might.  Pushing against the fourth wall, trying to break free of the confines one has fallen into.

When will security come so Creativity might flow?  When does anything make sense again?

And still the page stares.  Empty.

The Briar Faerie

Once upon a time, there was a little white wood. This patch of wood grew on the side of a mountain, where every winter it snowed, every spring it rained, every summer it thrived, and every fall the leaves changed to yellow.

The wood was home to a family of deer, six colonies of rabbits, hosts of squirrels, and a little old gnome who was friends with Brimble Badger.

While the gnome, Woodstock, was engaged in merry conversation with Brimble, a tiny little faerie fell to the earth near their feet

You see, she’d fallen from the trees while trying to escape an evil crow who had chased her from the briar

Quite shocked, taken aback to many years ago when the Forest King had battled the Mountain Goats, Woodstock gasped, “Why what is this?”

Brimble bent down as the faerie sat up, “Hallo there little one, where did you come from?”

Shuddering the slightest, the faerie began to answer when the crow came shooting down from the sky. The faerie gave a yelp, jumping underneath Brimble Badger.

“Now see here, old Crow, whatever are you doing chasing this defenseless creature? Have you no shame?” Woodstock retorted angrily.

The crow furrowed his brow, “She has stolen my bell and I want it back.” The crow lied.

The gnome raised a brow, putting a fist to his hip, wagging the other to the crow, “Now see here, you are in the realm of the White Wood, and it is forbidden to chase Fae.’

“They are precious to the Forest King. And no matter what wrong she has done to you, you shall torment her no longer.”

Beady black eyes narrowed, were it possible. “She has to return to the briar some time. And when she does, the King will have no say in her Fate.” The crow took off, spraying bramble on them with his talons.

Continuing to tremble, the faerie needed coaxed to leave from under the warm chest of the badger. Brimble tapped lightly at her head with his claw, “My sweet, he has gone. You can come out now.”

An aura of orange emanated from the faerie, and they could see the thorns entangled around her leaf dress. Delicate leaves encircled her hair, which was pulled up with a rose stem

“Briar faeries are not so easily trusted.” She spoke timidly.

“I did steal his bell. But only because it was put on a cage, and the cage was meant to trap my sisters and I.”

Woodstock frowned, “And what would a crow do with faeries? Even those from the briar?”

It took the faerie a moment to respond, she knew the White Wood was a safe place, and yet she felt ashamed.

The Badger nodded, “Nevermind little one. Let us get you cleaned up and taken care of. You can tell us on the way to the King.”

“The Wood King?” She exclaimed with alarm.

“Indeed,” replied Woodstock. “He will want to hear of this terrible thing the Crow is doing.”

Pt 1. To be continued.