Feather-Blessed: A Wordless Call

To my loyal readers, an apology that this took so long. I'm still trying to find ways to balance my writing schedule with working full time. I suspect it will always be a challenge, but I'll try to get better at it.

In case you're a new reader, the first Feather-Blessed story is here.
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Purple and yellow, magenta and green
They bloom along her arms, shoulders, and face.
Such a quiet sound, far from any human home
A girl’s voice, wordless, full of meaning:
Sobs, muffled desperately by aching flesh

Grace awoke suddenly, then realized she was swimming away from Stella, who was floating on the water, wings outspread to catch the starlight. Grace paused long enough to stick her head out of the water. “Stella, wake up.”

Stella yawned and glared at Grace, pale pointed exclamation points fringing her eyes. “Why’d you wake me up?” Her voice was all fuzzy. “There was this sad girl, and I was trying to find out what was wrong. But you woke me up, and now I’ll never know—”

“She’s not a dream.”

“I can never get back to the same dream—wait. What are you talking about?”

( Another sob... )

And here is the next installment: A Kindred Spirit.
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Please, leave me a comment below to let me know what you think.

Feather-Blessed: A Wordless Call

To my loyal readers, an apology that this took so long. I'm still trying to find ways to balance my writing schedule with working full time. I suspect it will always be a challenge, but I'll try to get better at it.

In case you're a new reader, the first Feather-Blessed story is here.
___________________

Purple and yellow, magenta and green
They bloom along her arms, shoulders, and face.
Such a quiet sound, far from any human home
A girl’s voice, wordless, full of meaning:
Sobs, muffled desperately by aching flesh

Grace awoke suddenly, then realized she was swimming away from Stella, who was floating on the water, wings outspread to catch the starlight. Grace paused long enough to stick her head out of the water. “Stella, wake up.”

Stella yawned and glared at Grace, pale pointed exclamation points fringing her eyes. “Why’d you wake me up?” Her voice was all fuzzy. “There was this sad girl, and I was trying to find out what was wrong. But you woke me up, and now I’ll never know—”

“She’s not a dream.”

“I can never get back to the same dream—wait. What are you talking about?”

( Another sob... )

And here is the next installment: A Kindred Spirit.
__________________________________

Please, leave me a comment below to let me know what you think.

Flash Fiction: Monster Meal

Having finally finished the next Feather Dragon story (which insisted on being a full-fledged short story, not flash), my brain felt free to wander, and lo--before midnight--I have something ready for



Monster Meal

She shivers in the dark night, not because she’s cold; her fur is proof against even winter’s winds, and it is not winter. No, she shivers because she knows the moon will rise, full, and powerful, and there is nowhere she can go to hide from it.

She walks forward through the shoulder-high grasses, smelling the chicory, clover, and violets. A frog croaks, a poor, sickly sound; the stream nearby is choked with trash—rotting paper things and metal containers that the monsters put there.

In the distance there are roses, lilies, and squirrels. A dog barks at a cat. The monsters are quiet, for the moment.

A rabbit breaks cover right in front of her, bounding away, eyes wide with fear. She starts to chase it, hoping to fill her stomach before the moonlight hits her, so at least she won’t wake with that —taste— in her mouth. She bounds three times, and then feels the tingling start, as the first moonlight falls on her fur.

Her feet stop moving, and she falls in the grass, as the wholesome rabbit bounds away to safety. The change hurts, but pain is only pain. The worst is knowing she is becoming a monster, one of those who defile the world, salting it with poisons and trash.

She thrashes on the ground, hidden by the grasses, moaning weakly.

The moon rises, and the woman sits up, bare skin still tingling from the change. She is wearing a polyester dress and plastic high-heeled shoes. She reaches into her purse, pulls out a tiny bag of make-up and dresses her face. She takes out a breath mint, tossing the plastic wrapper on the ground. Then she walks to a road where she catches a bus.

“Good evening.” The bus driver smiles, obviously appreciating her curves.

“Hi!” She smiles back flirtatiously. “There is a Big Burger on this route, isn’t there?”

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