Aundriel Washington
Bio
I am a teacher, writer, and southern girl from New Orleans who loves to immerse readers into worlds where there's always an adventure.
Stories (9/0)
A Psalm Between Worlds
Crowds flocked into the capital. The masses who emptied into Tafar cheered, sang, chanted, and danced to the drums. Citizens from as far north as Ker and as far south as Mer stood shoulder to shoulder while dragon horns drowned individual thoughts. The white flags of the monarchy danced in the dust while high and low-born alike prayed for Queen Takah once word spread from the palace that her labor had begun.
By Aundriel Washington11 months ago in Fiction
Prologue
Kasaqa stood at the peak of Mum's Temple and beheld the extermination of her mortal brothers and sisters. Thick black smoke swallowed the radiant sun. A wall of sand surrounded the southern temple, and dragons' rage rained down upon the northern. Gust whipped as Realm citizens and animals sought shelter. Split trees tossed about like rags. Wailing children clawed at their dead mothers and fathers while they nearly choked on the sand. In the chaos, she witnessed the goodness within humankind. Strangers shielded and pulled orphaned young to shelter. Her Sobis, fighting men and women, fought bravely though many met their end on the dunes of Ker in the battle that became known as the War of the Godkin.
By Aundriel Washingtonabout a year ago in Fiction
Waiting Between Worlds
Taraji stared at the magnificent carving covered in vibrant paints of a dragon and a little Waif. The only illumination under cover of darkness inside the hollow musty space. The figures would slowly come to life, telling a story. The golden beast gawked at the child and then swallowed her gently. She slid down his rough tongue, plucking his serrated teeth like a harp. His entrails danced about as the little one giggled. Fire and blood rocked her back and forth; her ginger hair singed by the dragon's breath.
By Aundriel Washingtonabout a year ago in Fiction
Waiting Between Worlds
"Gather my children. Gather around your Momma Abi for truth-telling." The Waifs, abandoned young of the north, swarmed the flaming salt sands that twirled their Faramom as they entered the temple. Though the Anan Temple was in disrepair from years of war and neglect, Momma Abi used it.
By Aundriel Washington2 years ago in Fiction
The Realm of Napatan
The bough broke with mom's abandoned promise. She battled, but a black hole corrupted her spirit. Arael promised herself she would not bow out this time. Today was Wednesday, 110 days since her mother's suicide and 50 days since her grief counselor assigned her this arduous task.
By Aundriel Washington2 years ago in Fiction
