Forest of WhiteWind gently blows through the forest of white
as snow silently falls to the white blanket.
No sign of life in this forest of white as the
snow is fresh and soft with no prints of snow.
The skies are grey with clouds, hardly any warm
light of the sun can break through the darkness as
the delicate flakes float to the earth,
then become another part of the cover.
The lake is frozen over with the waterfall frozen in time.
Large, lifeless icicles is now the rushing water,
blocking the cave of solitude,
as wind echoes through the dark walls.
Trees no longer have leaves, instead they
have icicles forming on their branches.
Grass does not exist in this silent frozen world.
Only frozen, white ice.
This frozen forest may look dead.
It may even look lifeless.
But if you close your eyes and take in that one breath.
That one breath that can bring freshness to your lungs.
You slowly open your eyes,
a sight makes you frozen.
A doe with its fawn, picking at the leaves
of what is left on a snow-covered
The White ForestThe dull and gray sky
and the icy breeze,
gently blowing the tiny
flakes down to the white earth.
The lake is frozen over
and the trees are in a
blanket of white,
hiding their lush green.
No longer is there grass
as the snow is untouched,
glistening in the faint sun,
dancing like countless fallen stars.
Bitter cold is in the air
as the sun is hardly there,
but the beauty of white, empty forest,
iss definitely a sight to see.
The OsteologistThe house was quiet as the osteologist was delicately working on placing a skeleton of a cat together for his oddity collection. Everything was quiet except for the gentle tinks now and then at placing the bones in place. Picking up the tweezers and putting them down again, his brown eyes were focused and concentrated on his work as the single lamp above his head was lighting his way to success. The young man would lightly brush his black hair from his eyes and carry on working. The cat was almost complete and his heart was pounding in eagerness at his newest work and with a steady hand, he tied the tail in place, then securely tied the bones in to have them stay.
Cutting the wires to hold the skeleton together, and making the skeleton take position as if it was stalking its prey, he sat back with a smile of pride as he placed the tweezers down for good, then placed his hands on the back of his head. Admiring the newest member of the collection, the osteologist was proud of hims
Torment and InsanityThe screaming of the tormented,
the laughter of the mad,
the wailing of the dying;
echoing in my mind.
The blood running down
the rusted walls along with the
stench of the rotting crimson liquid;
the stench of death.
The spirits of the dead,
mocking me of their life.
Laughing at the mad
in their petty revenge.
The knife, shining, gleaming
in the light, making me smile
in joy of the sweet memories
of freeing their souls.
Mad, they called me,
for helping the living die.
Now, insanity, is my
one and only savior.
Worth Fighting For: epilogueAfter restoring Eogan to its almost former state, Arcane and Ryvren finally wedded with Arcane now Earl of the city with her husband as the general. It was their first night together as husband and wife as Arcane was laying on top of her husband with the covers draped over her bare shoulders, kissing his bare chest, then her eyes met the brand mark of a 'T' with a circle around it, over the elf's heart. She sadly placed her two fingers over it as he stroked her hair lovingly. "I don't understand why you didn't tell me," she muttered.
Ryvren took a deep breath. "Just afraid of what you would think of me."
The young wife looked at him in his green eyes. She could see the pain and shame that he was trying to conceal from her. "Your past would never change the way I feel about you."
"It's not that, it's-" he took a heavy sigh. "It's just, what kind of an elf does not know magic? I can't live my life with that weight on my shoulders."
Arcane narrowed her eyes in suspicion as she looked at h
Worth Fighting For ch10Ryvren's greens eyes glared cold hate into the emotionless orange eyes. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you." He pinned the dark Lord against the wall with the tip of his sword under his chin.
Malgrith smirked. "You came a long way, elf. That's determination."
Ryvren said nothing, but glared at the man. His long black hair, the scar on the side of his face, and the orange eyes would never leave the elf's memory anytime soon.
"Ryvren," a woman's voice called, making the elf look ovewr his shoulder and found Arcane dressed in her hide armor with a sword on her hip. "Why should I let you have all the fun?" A hint of humor was in her voice as she approached them.
"I don't think this is a place for a lady," he muttered, looking back at the pinned Lord.
His fiancee unsheethed her sword and looked at him with curousity in her dark eyes. "Why not? He took over my city, killed my father," she looked at the dark Lord with hatred, "and forced me into a wedding. I think this is the r
Dragon Rider: Twigleg's StoryAfter many, many years of living in a castle on a top of a mountain, a large brute of a dragon, who had twelve servants, called that castle their home. But this story is not about the fierce, golden dragon. Instead, it is about one of the servants. A homunculus, a small manikin, with spindly limbs, named Twigleg, who was sitting on the ground with his eight brothers in their own room that they each shared, but only had the cold, stoned ground for comfort. The nine of them were silent as they were mourning for their four brothers, who were just eaten by their master.
"I can't believe it," one of them muttered, who was sitting across from Twigleg. They all had red hair and crimson eyes, and wore tailcoats with pointed boots, but you could tell some of them apart. This one was Crimson, who had hair that was the darkest red out of all of them.
"We just have to pay more attention next time," Nidus, the one who kept the other brothers in order and was one of the most sensible. His crimson ha
Behind the VeilWith the path of rose petals
scattered down the hall,
a young bride fallows
the path to holy matrimony.
Behind her veil
lays a smile of love
as she meets the groom
of her dreams.
Her steps make not
a sound as the
Wedding March plays
with the tears of joy fall.
When white turns black
and wedding becomes a funeral
as her soundless steps
approach the fallen love.
Behind her veil,
lays a face of heartache
with tears running down
like rain during Winter.