Mikayla Decker
Stories (23/0)
Lashing Descent
Melisande choked on her blood as it poured like a great rain down her throat. Her sentence was to be carried out by her dain- her husband to be. They were to be the next clan leaders. As Melisande looked defiantly up through her blood soaked hair, she couldn’t stop the hate that festered in her heart for her dain. Never again would their bond be the same and it was not because he was currently torturing her, it was because he did not listen to her as a dain ought to. It was a clan’s Dain that led with ruthlessness and his Daima who kept him from mercilessness. Without Mel guiding him by his side their clan was doomed to horrors untold.
By Mikayla Decker 2 years ago in Fiction
Bone Shivers
Curtains white as bone, swish lazily to a tune only they can hear. The moon’s watchful eye bores down on a small quiet house; It’s baneful, sadness reeks in waves to any brave enough to venture near. The word house may be too insufficient a word to use- shack is more accurate. One soulless night, a woman of late fifties, finds herself walking by this lonely house one sweltering summer’s eve. A woman of questionable morals, she indeed was, and with no home, family, or money to her name, she decides to sleep there for the evening.
By Mikayla Decker 2 years ago in Poets
An Irate King
“Bring the dragon witch forth before me.” The king said this with a very deadly tone. I shift from my spot next to him in uneasiness. I have not decided whether this is due to the words the king just said or the way he said them. Either way someone was about to be in serious trouble. The thing that is brought before the dark king is no dragon. In fact the creature resembles a fae or water sprite, something otherworldly, definitely, but a dragon she is not. She is no more a dragon than he, a mortal, is. With her silver hair dull with the mud caking it and the blood dried to those same strands, she looked striking- dare I say beautiful even. I held my breath as those vivid violet eyes, so filled with rage and cunning, lifted to meet mine.
By Mikayla Decker 2 years ago in Fiction
Bone Horse
A kelpie, my memory in its panicked state doesn’t remember too much lore on the monster. Although from where I’m standing it doesn’t appear like one. Supposedly they’re half horse half something else that feasts on flesh. Once the gorgeous beast entices a human to ride upon its back a magic seals your fate forever by making it impossible to get off the horse as he plunges into the inky depths of the water. Once the child, man, or woman is drowned, the kelpie eats his meal. All this I know is at the forefront of my mind and yet as the horse tosses its mane all I can do is let out a faint breath. Whether it is fear or awe that causes my breathlessness I know not. I know it can only be a selkie one by the untold beauty this animal wears and two by the location of this animal it trots upon the grainy gravel resting just out of reach of the great black lake and lastly, reason three, it is late at night and the moon shines down upon the fluorescent silvery white back of the beast. Those are the exact characteristics of the creatures of horror in the lore told inside my village.
By Mikayla Decker 2 years ago in Fiction
Striking Waters
“Did you know.. It’s considered rude to board another’s boat without the captain’s permission darling?” I sweep my eyes towards him- the captain. He’s handsome by human standards, with his sea blue eyes, and darkened hair. His rugged beard made him very nice to look at. Apparently I was staring because he asked voice very low, almost a growl, “Do you like the look of me little minnow?” Another man from his crew puts in, “Sir I am not so sure, these fish understand our words.” The captain looks at me calmly, assessing me. For what I did not know. “Oh I think she understands well enough.”
By Mikayla Decker 2 years ago in Fiction
Crimson Dance
Crimson Dance Their bodies lithely move in sync, sweat coats every inch of the two deadly dancers. Their gazes are intensely locked in an intimate moment. Their swords clash as each strives to kill the other. They move with feline grace, each striking so fast their bodies are an inhuman blur. After a flurry of blows it appears like one has the upper hand and the fight has swung in favor of the female. A wicked smirk alights upon the elven woman’s face a half second later, she catches his sword with hers and knocks it from his grasp. Immediately following, she flicks her wrist bringing the point of her sword to his throat. In a light musical thrill she speaks a single one word, “concede.” He pauses dumbstruck at his defeat and stares at his fallen sword. She was weak, how had she bested me? Thoughts swirl like oil on water inside his head.
By Mikayla Decker 2 years ago in Fiction
Dragon's Lament
A full moon shines unimpeded, each blade of grass illuminated in a silvery glow. All is quiet and still, until a single clear voice rings forth. The trees shiver and soon a haunting melody strikes up, the beautiful chords make the forest come alive as the notes flow from one to another. The ancient oaks creak and groan as their great trunks and branches sway with the risings and fallings of the melody. Their leaves caress each other and cause a shushing sound as if a gale has pushed and prodded at their bases. The ethereal song picks up in tempo as the eleven singers allow their own emotions to seep into their tune. Many animals rush through in a wild frenzy; they respond to the call for their mates. This song is sung each moon to help the forest and its inhabitants to flourish. It is, however, very fatal to human ears.
By Mikayla Decker 2 years ago in Poets
Silent Moonlight
Thunder boomed in the distance, a jarring warning to those listening. The moon was obscured by a thick cover of clouds. Nothing moved and all was silent, except for a shadow. The silhouette of a stealthy man crept forward toward an isolated darkened house. Soon after, another movement occurs, this time it is lightning and an evil grin can be seen from our shadow.
By Mikayla Decker 2 years ago in Poets
Crimson Dance
Crimson Dance Their bodies lithely move in sync, sweat coats every inch of the two deadly dancers. Their gazes are intensely locked in an intimate moment. Their swords clash as each strives to kill the other. They move with feline grace, each striking so fast their bodies are an inhuman blur. After a flurry of blows it appears like one has the upper hand and the fight has swung in favor of the female. A wicked smirk alights upon the elven woman’s face a half second later, she catches his sword with hers and knocks it from his grasp. Immediately following, she flicks her wrist bringing the point of her sword to his throat. In a light musical thrill she speaks one word, “concede.” He pauses dumbstruck at his defeat.
By Mikayla Decker 2 years ago in Fiction
Death is Messy
After spending nearly an eternity in deafening silence, the truck starting up was an aggressive roar to my ears. I mumble a curse and roll out of my snipe position onto my side away from the window. As I'm flipping positions, I switch on the safety of my rifle with my index finger. The idiot that I was intending to shoot, but I wont now, thought he would get to wherever he was going with that truck. I won't bother to kill him now, he is already dead. The brilliant simpleton must really not have been paying attention these last three years. There are monsters far greater than man roaming at night (huge claim I know) I thought snidely. I’ve no love for people, since that day everything went to shit. Now we all, those left still breathing, have far greater problems. Not sure how this guy managed to get working gas or how he even got the rust bucket started in the first place, but Mhm this man was about to have a really bad day. I peer down at him from my crumpled ruin of a “building.” I spin on my heel and start looking for some decent cover. The building will work, there’s no time to head anywhere else, but they will likely search the building, once they’ve finished their meal.
By Mikayla Decker 2 years ago in Fiction
Bloody Heirlooms
The uncontested queen sat, staring vacantly at the edge of the basin. Naked and slathered with rich creamy soap, servants hastily bustle about in preparation for their queen’s victory feast. They’re like ants, hustling about afraid...perhaps they are afraid of me, after what I had just done, I wouldn’t blame them, the queen thought and quickly averted her attention back to thinking of nothing but that edge of the tub. Servants sat at her grand table sifting through clothes and banners for the feast. Many were so entranced in their work they failed to notice the queen’s presence while others had a harder time such as the ones tending to her. One such servant snaps to action and brushes the queen’s hair, another pours water over her shoulders and attempts to wash the blood from the queen’s milky skin. It swirls amid the blackened waters surrounding her.
By Mikayla Decker 3 years ago in Fiction