I'm a Tasmanian, and write Urban Fantasy novels/stories and experimental creations.
My story, Abuse and the Melodious Word, was altered to become; Those old Scissors, so I could submit it to the scissors challenge.
This is a story a bit different to my others about scissors. I am not going to rehash how I make clothes or use them for protection or tools. No! These scissors are mystical. They are used to limiting happiness, not to promote it.
A Name Forgotten
In heavy darkness Past echoes shimmer Outlines of their reach draw me Tendrils lift and sway on a breeze long forgotten
Shifting Tides of Long Ago
The laughing pine, a constant friend, shelters an ageing call whilst the tightening bounds of a yesteryear catches me in its thrall. A rising sun of always the same casts my shadow into the day, but the shading ripples of the pines embrace casts its echo far away, from me.
Soft white steam exhales into the morning mist as cloud and drizzle fall about her feet. She, who walks a top cloud and dances upon the ridge of mountainous alpined moss, sees all the way along the great valleys that edge the Tasman Isles flowered beauties. All paths intersect and celebrate at her feet, with the Green-mans leafy trail laid before each step she takes. Cool and chilled she whispers to the shifting winds, all the secrets and hidden mysteries that shower their bounties upon an unknowing world.
The Sly of Night
His black eyes haunt me. The texture and form of his white body fits with my own and yet we are breeds apart. I hear his call each day amongst a growing throng, attempting to lure me into his arms, but I resist. He urgently pulls at the soft white pillows and burgundy summer blanket temptingly from the darkness I can always feel his eyes watching my every step, the rise and fall of my every breath. I make a wide birth each time I pass his abode, knowing I’m helpless to his charms.
Notion of Being
Slip steaming along currents Twisting, rolling through sound, An elliptic view of earth and sky Sun rays warm melting cloud.
Taffeta Woven Abodes
Horizoned spans of Autumn and clover spreading their wonder on wisped winds high. Elevated shimmers reckon the moments and darken the bluest, cloudy skies.
Faces in the Green Mans Veil
The shadowed faces peer through the soft foliage of new growth, no distinction as to gender perceived by those of a mortal realm, as androgynous forms shape through dark course barks and silvered boughs, all watching from lofty branch and twig.