Deanna Cassidy
Bio
(she/her) This establishment is open to wanderers, witches, harpies, heroes, merfolk, muses, barbarians, bards, gargoyles, gods, aces, and adventurers. TERFs go home.
Stories (58/0)
Fleeing the Plumber
I pull a turnip from the ground and throw it at the block above me. A green mushroom falls from the block and I catch it handily. A tall cliff looms ahead of me, but I see another block nearby. With one more well-aimed turnip, I hit the second block and watch a beanstalk erupt from it. Leaves alternate sides on the stalk, close enough together for me to climb without any adjustments to my long pink gown.
By Deanna Cassidy3 years ago in Geeks
Beast
Princess Blanche sleeps soundly beside my campfire, surrounded by my companions. By all appearances she is a sweet, innocent fourteen-year-old girl, as helpless as a kitten. I feel responsible for her. I feel an obligation to guard her safety and guide her judgment. I have to forcibly remind myself that two days ago, she had sent her Huntsman and seven Miners to kill my friends and me. Her own magical poison attack had rendered half of us, myself included, insensible. She is a formidable enemy.
By Deanna Cassidy3 years ago in Fiction
Sheriff
My best friend, the incomparable ranger Marion Fletcher, insists that our group can't decamp until we've had a proper breakfast. She trapped two pheasants and is frying them in a cast iron skillet over our fire. The scent of the game birds mingles enticingly with the fresh herbs Eliza Rivers, mistress of nature, foraged this morning.
By Deanna Cassidy3 years ago in Fiction
Voice
The hot afternoon sun beats down on my companions and me as we walk up Sherwood Way. I lead the horse to which Princess Blanche is tied. I feel a pang in my heart to see the pretty child gagged, but it's the only way to prevent her from attacking us with her poison-breath. Isobel Hansom, farmer and werewolf-barbarian, leads another horse; Marion Fletcher, general store owner and ranger, leads the third.
By Deanna Cassidy3 years ago in Fiction
Sleep
Princess Briar Rose smiles menacingly at me. She leans against the sitting room window. I can just make out the distant glow of Little John's burning orchard in the night sky behind her. The view out the window becomes increasingly obscured by the enchanted thorny hedge growing outside.
By Deanna Cassidy3 years ago in Fiction
Cinder
I wear a brown hood these days, but people still call me Red. The cookies in my basket look like regular sweets, but members of the Enchantment Liberation Front know how to read their codes. Today’s batch of peanut butter chocolate chip mean we are meeting at eight in the evening.
By Deanna Cassidy3 years ago in Fiction
Play to your Heart's Content
A hamper of dirty laundry, a purse, and an unopened toothbrush: Claire knew the rideshare driver must have questions. Thankfully, the woman had stopped trying to make conversation after the first five minutes of polite, unengaged replies. Claire regretted not being nicer, but it was all she could do to clench her jaw and keep her sobs as quiet as possible.
By Deanna Cassidy3 years ago in Fiction
Vengeance in Mycenae
The time has come to avenge my daughter's death. The trireme with Agamemnon's flags lingered outside to the harbor until the tide could help them in. Now, the entire polis of Mycenae seems to hold its collective breath. From my position on the palace's upper veranda, I can see the people below pausing, just a moment, to consider the incoming ship. They invariably look up towards the palace, then continue on their ways. I can't see their facial expressions. Perhaps some are planning to align themselves with their estranged king.
By Deanna Cassidy3 years ago in Fiction
Inhuman Roomies
- Day One - Bill’s hand instantly found his phone and turned off the alarm. He hoped briefly that he could fall back asleep, but the sun was up and he could hear his new roommate moving around already. Bill opened his eyes and turned over in bed.
By Deanna Cassidy3 years ago in Fiction
No Iron in the Mushroom Circle
Large white mushrooms grew in a perfect circle at the edge of Sylvia's lawn. She cut the power to the lawnmower, wiped sweat off her brow with the back of her hand, and stepped closer. Sure, she'd seen mushrooms like this in the area before. And there must be a rational explanation for them growing in a circle. Her imagination drew her irresistibly closer anyway.
By Deanna Cassidy3 years ago in Fiction