The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. Millie watched the dancing flame, while somewhat low and yet still bright, flickered like someone was breathing softly behind it, dancing in the subtle breeze. They were entranced as the flame licked at the condensed windows like the inquisitive fingers from a bored toddler. They drove past this cabin over hundreds of times, the windows caked with years of mysterious muck and both yard and road overgrown with unfriendly plants such as knapweed, thistle, blackberry brambles, hogweed, nettle and bear grass. But now...there was a plain white candle in the window. And their car broke down.
Becoming a dragon queen
There weren't always dragons in the valley.... But then again, life is weird enough. With the discovery of dragons, there was also a mass influx of medical alterations that many people can perform on themselves, but I explain those later.
A Night at the Reno
I remember the day I saw him for the first time. He wasn’t much to look at, but there was a rough beauty that wafted from his cat like grace, from the broad arrow shape of his shoulders. Skin was weathered from the sun, darkened from exposure and long days outside. Even from across the dimly lit room, I could see muscles flexing from his thighs and arms, a firmness to the slim peak of stomach that rose when he flipped off the television. A dark colored Stetson was on his head, shielding his eyes. He was wearing some thick, industrial boots normally meant for trekking through the thick brush of Montana woods, scuffed and bleached from usage. He was beautiful, so beautiful. Like a masculine nymph created from the rough grains of Persephone. Does my admiration make me Hades? He was leaning against a wall near the back door, watching both the tv and the exits.
The freshly fallen snow acted as a muffler to the night time nature of the local park. The crisp crunch of the frozen liquid was still muffled like, sharp and dull at the same time, under her boot. Karen Morales was lost in thought. Her sister went missing just three days ago, mere minutes before her wedding. No one knew where she went. She wasn't in her suite, or anywhere.
It was the cusp of June. The air dry and cloggingly hot. Kiki, a short little black dog with one white toe on her front right paw and a splash of grey around her chest, darted in and out of the dusty green bushes that dotted along the old logging road. She was just a mutt that I rescued, who in favor rescued me. More than once, but I will never admit that to my family.
9 am. Currently, I am just lying in bed, complementing the existence of my life. I look at the blank white wall, frowning as blue and yellow insects appear to flutter and scribble patterns into the pebbled surface. Many of the bugs are the shades of jewels and have eerie humanoid eyes. The worst thing: I know they are not real. Just a bunch of fabricated, animated images my brain decided to conjure today. The bugs began to dance, and soon… the screaming starts.