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.
Since the dawn of time the Unseelie Court had a council set up in order to prevent any of their darker fae kind from spooking any humans to the point of retaliation. VELEBREZZA was one of a set of twins who were in line to become the next of the Morrigan line to fill a seat on the council, but only one of them could become a council member.
Chapter One: Initiation A brisk cool breeze filtered in through the open window, birds had already begun to rouse and chirp as they welcomed the rising dawn but Gracielle Watson could only be heard snoring loudly. It had only been a few years since Graci had fallen asleep, after having spent the better part of the night pouring of her anatomy books for the exam that was to take place on this very day, in four hours’ time to be exact. Elen, having risen to take a walk down to Dutch Brothers, had decided to be a dear of a bestie and picked up a huge Caramelizer coffee for each of them. Graci and Elen had been best friends since the tender age of ten, when Ellie’s mother had died of breast cancer, and Elen had moved to Dexter Lake with her grandparents. Both girls had been thrust into the school year with the loss of a parent, or in Elen’s case parents, but this commonality made it possible for an amazingly tight sisterly bond to flourish between them. So strongly that they both planned to go into nursing to help other kids maintain having parents. In fact, Elen and Graci were so inseparable that for many years during their high school season some classmates made up a terrible rumor regarding their sexualities. Now, the two were room-mating comfortably in a dormitory in Titan Tower, right smack in the center of a place totally unlike Dexter; Eugene, Oregon. It was close enough to home but just far enough from Elen’s meddling and devout Baptist grandparents and Graci’s constantly working logger father, allowing for both girls to continue to perform with their choir at Mount Olive Baptist Church and participate in the chamber choir competitions across the state.
Embers of Ecstasy
Prologue: Spell Crafting Revelation Whoosh! An arctic wind fluttered across the landscape, lifting fallen leaves in a swirl that carried them in a dancing motion across the village yard. It was an eerie sort of morn, the sort that caused chill bumps to rise upon one’s arms. And surely, the few villagers who were awake at this early hour understood that a change was coming with those Autumnal winds – a change that meant the death of most things and a deep hibernation for all others. And yet one particular woman with intoxicating cerulean eyes peered from her cabin with a deadly expression etched within her flawless visage. So utterly beautiful and with a name of equal beauty. Rumored to be one of the fairest in all the village, Rhiannon was destined to be a great Queen, but pagan beliefs were well on the outs with the advent of the Christian mission – destroying so much of her culture and that of her people, that Rhiannon opted for the sweet name that fell from her lover’s lips on such an icy day,
It singed, the coldness of the place in which she had found herself was a heavy cold. The type of cold that seeped into your bones, and took hours of heat to get out. To her the place was horrendous if not disgusting, to say the least. Yet what would happen there was something she hadn't laid witness to in an age. The bouncing tendrils of each curl upon her head had been wound up into a french bun. This was a place of lusts, and emotional binging, Devi sensed it upon the air. It exerted power, a shift in the electromagnetic wavelengths had made this place useful in the casting of spells. Yet, it was haunted. Frozen by the memory of every spell, death, or conception that had occurred within it. The Sanguine family loved it, however, and that was why Deviaun remained in this place called home. Perhaps, it was the area in which Devi resided that made it even more chilled. No one ever came there. None, save Deviaun, entered this chamber, and there she stayed. The same chamber where she had resurrected Kalene, and even Madam Chalys. Few would remember. The chamber where she wrote spell after spell, and tale after tale. Her thoughts ran to the past with photographic imagery ascertaining that she could never forget anything that happened to her. The time when she had been reduced to mere slavery and bonded within a rope corset. Such a pretty little wench. She smirked, "And that's where they always underestimate me," And it was true. Terms like Deadly Beauty, and Seductress of Death had suited her. Did they now? The removal of her heart hadn't cured her questioning. Still, she was so fucking alone now. "Fucking alone," she repeated the words aloud as if saying them thus would clear the problem any more than she had already played it out. Somewhere there was a new child Vivian had finally given birth to him. Devi shook her headlong had it been since a child had been had by her. She wondered what the purpose for the child would be? What was her sister's new agenda in their beloved little family?
Richard Francis Burton spent the majority of his youth enlisted as a Calvary officer for the British Military. After enlisting at the age of eighteen he spent ten years on various deployments mainly to the East, Indian, and Middle Eastern countries. He prided himself on being the very best at everything he did. A strong, and virile young man he was regarded by women as being the playful, and non-assuming sort who flattered them so they seemed to fall at his feet. After the first 5 years of his military service, he was titled as Captain and later knighted for his efforts.
When I was eleven years old my aunt took custody of me, and my older sister. At the time my sister, Maribelle, was thirteen. After a huge blowout argument between another aunt, and her husband my mother decided that it was best if she split up her four children, and it was my Aunt Danah who stepped in to save the day. Aunt Danah lived out in the country, and I remember when we first went to see her asking if all the roads in Tennessee were bright red like the one my Aunt lived on.
In August of the year Nineteen Ninety-One a beautiful baby girl was born at precisely Seven Thirty-Seven AM. By all accounts she, like most of the other newborn infants in the hospital had a full life ahead of her, and should have been raised with the belief that being American meant that the world was truly at her fingertips. Her parents named her Marisol Evette Jameson, and she was born to a Hispanic mother, and a Caucasian father. Neither of which were actually married by any definitive means of law, but in the eyes of Marisol's mother they were what would have been considered common law married.
Farahilde Ada von Masoch was the youngest of all the fairer, and more elegant young ladies of Limburg, Austria. Born of a scandalous affair between her mother, and a nobleman. She was born out of wedlock, and therefore unable to claim heir ship to anything he possessed, but to her fortunate fate her grandmother was the Baroness of the city. As it were Farahilde was sort of the orphaned Cinderella who by goodwill only barely skid by on being a pauper rather than somewhat proper. Nevertheless it was this lack of pure right to anything that made Farahilde linger more in the shadows than most girls her age. It wasn't that Farahilde was so young she could not be courted, but more so because of her dislike for some of the words others associated with both her, and her family; a subject of rumors that were the lifeblood of these sorts of people. She was stunning truthfully with ruby red lips, and ringlets of silken chestnut brown. They fell like a cascading waterfall over her shoulders, and framed a heart shaped face. She even possessed the pouting lips of a siren, and somehow all she wanted was to find the proper male to kiss them. Like something out of a fairytale as her prince charming descended the next fine twisting staircase.
The Selkie Revelation
The fire burned a bright orange reminiscent of fading sunlight leaving a twilight sky. I stared silently into it. My mind far off into the distance as I recollected what had just happened a few hours before. My weekend adventure with my mother had ended in a tragedy, and there was nothing I could do about it. Kieran was dead, and Grandma Adelaide had taken to her room for hours. Completely unexpected, and out of nowhere we had been ambushed by poachers. Mom suspected that they had followed us to the house, and probably waited for the chance to clarify that I was the next princess in line to merge our two clans. I shuddered suddenly. The realization of what had happened was more than I could bear, but I would never forget it. Not as long as I lived.
The Traitorous Twin
Deviaun strode through the hallway of the Order in her hand she held a simple leather-bound book with Latin words illegibly written across the top. The Sanguine Queen had a look of sure devious delight playing upon her features. What had she just done? Would the spell be her very undoing? With every step she took down the darkened corridor the echo of her boot-heels reverberated off the damp walls. A flicker of torchlight was all the illumination within the hall. Finally with a pause she twisted her head to the left, and lifting the book quickly she slammed it hard upon the bricks. The resounding smack brought a decadent smile to her lips. They twisted upward like a knife splitting meat to capture the apples of her cheeks. Such a wicked grin only gave more sinister meaning to what she had done, and finally the utterance of the witch’s voice fled free of her decadent pout,
Nothing New Beneath the Sun
The sun blazed overhead so much that the sand itself seemed to radiate a steamy heat that added to the scorching temperature. Marisol Ramirez had awoken early that morning knowing that the day would soon become a blistering inferno. The heat in the desert of Iran was not like the heat of other deserts. In this place it seemed to cook one alive even beneath the shade of canvas meant to protect the inhabitants from the harmful effects of the sunrays. Dressed in khaki shorts, and a white tank top Marisol looked like the average archaeologist working on an average day dig, but something about this day was different. It was as if the very air itself held a mystical quality that spoke of the strange outcome the afternoon would unveil. The crew had been working the dig for two months already, and so far they had come across several different relics, but nothing extremely fascinating.
The Unexpected Goddess
𝘾𝙧𝙪𝙣𝙘𝙝 The weight of her tiny bare feet as they motioned over the battlefield of debris that laid outstretched before the grimy-looking wretch who came to stand at the edge of the burning cabin was the only sound. Hours had passed, how many the girl could not say but enough that the fray that had demolished her home and the echoes of her grandmother's screams as she burned within could by now become so seared into Eulalia's memory that she almost thought she could hear it even now. An acrid stench wafted through the air but nothing remained. The bits of steam that now lifted from the earth were the only signs of the inferno that had engulfed the cabin in an instant.