Sai Marie Johnson
A multi-genre author, poet, creative&creator. Resident of Oregon; where the flora, fauna, action & adventure that bred the Pioneer Spirit inspire, "Tantalizing, titillating and temptingly twisted" tales.
Pronouns: she/her or they/them.
ᴛʜᴇ ɪᴄᴇ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴍᴇʟᴛꜱ:
The coldness of that winter had been heavier than others. Intricate crystal sculptures crafted by the hands of the wild goddess seemed to jut up from every corner within the cavernous void that the silvery-fleshed woman strode. Lengthy tresses hung in her wake, seemingly floating upon the air as if they were living entities of their own simply following the lead of her forward motion. Having been called to this place for a meeting with the one called Queen, Icy recognized that times were changing and the season of heat and return of the sun would come in no short timing. The clack of her heels upon the stones resonated to create a rhythmic echo as she made way further down the hall. In passing, one of the slave girls' glances met with hers and Isyila felt a surge of annoyance flowing through her veins. Why Queen Jonquil had not yet done away with the practice of keeping the slaves had placed a rather horrid taste in Icy's mouth. But, she had a purpose to fulfill and as the slave passed her, she considered that mistreating her due her placement in the house was distasteful. Icy, as her name denoted, rather enjoyed the solidity of her own serious state and never found any excuse for leisure behavior as obligation and advising had been the primary objectives for the adviser.
Wind of the Highlands
Rhys Rhys strode silently across the grass, dark grey eyes rolling across the vibrant rolling and rich green hills. It was a moment of sweet respite that he dare not miss. Not the cold or even the grey landscape seemed shrouded in a cloud of thick, swirling mist that seemed to render everything entirely invisible could keep him from it. He snorted slightly, drawing his hand upward as he scratched at his chin. He was the third chieftain of Clan MacKinnon, but he knew well enough the rumors that ran their lands. Indeed, his clan was none to be trifled with, Clan MacKinnon was infamous for being one of the strongest clans in the upper highlands. But, these things were only the surface of Rhys' importance. Indeed, the man was well on his way to becoming one of the most feared chieftains this side of the Hebrides,
“Shut up!” Trever screamed, his fingers coming to grasp about Tessa’s throat as he slammed her into the wall behind him. Tessa’s eyes widened, brimming with tears as she struggled to quiet herself.
The Things that Push Us Forward
"You do understand that, because André DuPointe has agreed to co-sponsor the competition, that Ross and I must make sure things go our way. Do you not, Andalyn?" he asked coolly.
Worship Your Mistress
His eyes scanned over her with an intensity that Natalya had never before seen, a rising need with a flicker of carnality that radiated from his eyes like a brightly lit flame. It licked and arced from his pupil, with an arrow’s piercing aim directed at her.
Princess of One Heart
In their land, though dubbed the Isle of the Ice, grew broad emerald meadows filled with beautiful white flowers and blades of grass so tall one could simply kneel and be hidden in an instant. This particular Spring day two beautiful young girls frolicked about, laughing and joking as they soaked up the golden rays of sun. Two sweet sisters, the older girl being a platinum blonde with just a dash of redness to her otherwise golden locks; called Natalya, firstborn princess of The Arefyev clan. The younger of the two was a strawberry blonde beauty with eyes that pierced to the soul as crystal clear blue as the melting ice as it gave birth to pools from the perishing snow; Lidiya. Both the beloved princesses of the valiant King Eric Arefyev and Queen Rhiannon Jorgenson. The two girls were raised when the songs of Beowulf could be well heard around a campfire and the tales of magic in the night were their preferred entertainment. For their people, blood and honor were two things that knew went hand in hand. These were dark times but with Natalya and Lidiya being princesses of the notorious King Arefyev they never had cause to fear. The legends boasted of King Eric’s ability to wield a claymore like it were nothing more than a feather in the wind, and his ability to lead men into battle made the sacking of the city by city no challenge for the king and so the Queen held no reservations on what the two girls were allowed to, provided they stayed within a reasonable distance of the camp. Years and years passed with Natalya and Lidiya playing in the meadows such that it became a usual occurrence and the other villagers soon became accustomed to it. Though they were indeed a rough, and nomadic people they kept to themselves, except when they needed something, or in the event that King Eric highly desired something. There was one thing for certain, though valiant, King Eric was also ruthless and if he settled an eye on something he wanted, he took it and there was not a soul or thing that would stop him. For years King Eric protected his daughters but as Natalya grew older and her body began to morph into the ripe curves of a young woman, King Eric began to ponder upon dowries and clans to whom he could tie himself via the proper marriage of his eldest daughter. This meant Natalya would soon have to cease her childish behaviors and play in the meadows with her younger sister. Indeed, Natalya had been blessed with hips perfect for delivering sons, as Queen Rhiannon fondly stated. Lidiya, being only three years younger than her sister, had long feared this day and hoped her father wouldn’t notice that Natalya was growing into the perfect bride-to-be because for her sister to marry meant she would be alone with no one to turn to in her worst of moments. Albeit, Lidiya was a little less adventurous, and much more interested in becoming a wife and mother one day, she still felt some reservations about losing her sister to another clan. She enjoyed playing with her sister in the forest, but she also knew she had to learn to cook and provide for a husband in need one day but it had been Natalya who taught her most, if not everything, she knew. After all, it had been Natalya who was often distracting her to get them both into trouble by pressuring Lidiya to abandon chores in favor of playing in the meadows. But, she also made up for that by coming to Lidiya’s aid at every beck and call. And she was certain that Natalya’s epic and soulful eyes played a part in pulling at her heart strings. Each time she debated, Natalya seemed to have eyes that grew to the size of a large coin with fake tears brimming in the corners. It was amazing how well Natalya could guilt Lidiya into being her companion in anything but Lidiya had a soft spot for her and she wanted nothing more than to be accepted in her eyes. If only the two girls had any clue what was going to happen to them the day they chose to enter an open meadow in the midst of spring. If only they had known a rival tribe had camped in their woods then maybe Lidiya wouldn't have been lost to her family that day. Fate had something else in store though, and by the end of the night, Lidiya's commitment to companionship with Natalya would be compromised in ways neither girl could ever expect.
A Few Ways to Honor Rest
I will not deny that I am a person who has long been considered a night owl. This might be due to having a baby in my early adulthood and growing accustomed to being up late with my child and later learning to relish the quiet time offered by my children being asleep.
Whispers Through the Family
DeLanie DeCozzori had been privileged and she had also been protected. DeLanie, the firstborn daughter of Francisco DeCozzori, had recently been disengaged to a doctor from Florence, Italia whom her father seemed to delight in, but after finding the mass assortment of photos on his hard drive, DeLanie was certain getting out from under that bullet was probably a blessing in disguise. Her eyes slid down to her fingertips as she looked over her manicure. She sighed as she listened to the Priest as he went through the motions. The fact that Michael DelSantiago had wound up dead was certainly no surprise, but she wasn’t going to let on that she knew that. With her mother to her left and her eldest brother to the right, DeLanie sat in silence as the Priest continued his speech,
Just a Little Fib
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: This particular story is meant to be one for flash fiction, and the original word count needed to be under 500 words. Vocal, however, has a 600-word minimum requirement to share any piece and so I decided to write this small passage giving some explanation behind my idea for Just a Little Fib.
A Journey of Dislike
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: Many people who have read me and watched my growth as a writer into an author have reminded me that my concept and series story for The Tales of Valisa is likely the most promising of all my creations.
Arising to the Top
There was a bustle; though it was mid-December, and the slush of the wintry mix had begun to accumulate in its glistening majesty. Not for long though. Never long, for the pristine beauty of the white landscape was something that would soon enough be tainted by the ruts of tires and mud as it slung to and fro to clutter the gutters with the scum remnants of what had once been an untouched blanket of beautiful possibility. Within this flurry, a beautiful young woman with skin the color of light sandstone and emerald eyes, called Arisela, strode down the sidewalk of Seattle with a curious grin planted upon her rosy lips. Seemingly the sun was radiated down upon her with golden tendrils that spread out across her body; clad in a dark-colored downy jacket with pleats and round buttons, which made it difficult for the shape of her welcoming body as it was covered in such a modest jacket. And yet a ribbony shimmering brightness like that of the wintry sea in the gulf seemed to shimmer like lapis lazuli with glimmering luminescence within her dual-colored eyes.
Tears of Joyous Creation
Part One: In the beginning, there was a great expanse of blank space within the heavens, and the king of the gods found himself quite lonely. It was within this solitude that he birthed an idea to create for himself beings, which were smaller than he, but just as magnificent. The sentiment within his heart at this idea caused a sensation he had never felt before and so Echiel, the king of the elven gods, was the first to express such of the entire heavenly host. Only five tears were shed, but each tear was different than the one preceding it. The first tear was clear blue, and could easily be identified as the natural tear that humans are known to release when they experience an emotional catalyst. It was his five tears that brought the very existence of Valisa, and her peoples to life. That first tear brought forth the waters that would eventually be shaping into the seas that surrounded the entirety of the country. The second tear was a single drop of mud that would later become the earth, and landmasses of the elven utopia known as Valisa.