The Space Between

The Space Between

The space between

Dark blue and black

Differing shades of forever

Where pointing fingers linger

And eyes do blink

The stuff of dreams gathering

Like nocturnal memories

No lights required

Just open minds

Stardust and magic

Little parcels of eternity

Destiny and hope

Children praying for shooting stars

Adults too

Never has nothing held such value

Here, dwelling in held breaths

And wishes

We wait

The Winter Tree

"They say its petals fall to remind us of winters past."
"I don't want to remember them."
"No?"
"No. What's so special about winter, anyway?"
"Its beauty."
"Petals are more beautiful than snow."
"Are they?"
"Snow's cold."
"And if the petals fell early whilst winter still nipped at your cheeks? How would you know the difference?"
"I'm not sure."
"You wouldn't. This is how it is to stand beneath the Winter Tree whose petals tumble as constant snow."
"The Winter Tree does sound magical, I suppose."
"More so with age, my young friend. More so with age."

Caffeine Addiction

She took the quill and lavished it in a deep, indigo ink. Without a care for who watched, the table she splashed on, or especially me sat watching from the checkout, she rolled up her sleeve to reveal porcelain skin and wrote on her arm in great sweeping strokes. The words spelled my name.
Once she finished, she turned to me with eyes of polished fire and smiled. I grinned inanely back but mostly because she made me nervous.
When she twitched her toes from a shed stiletto, my toes twitched. When her right hand lifted and pulled back long, chestnut hair, so did mine tossing my Americano down my back in the process. The coffee burned my skin almost as much as the laughter from the shop’s other customers. When her lips mouthed Now you’re mine, my own spelled the words.
Damn, I thought. I didn’t even finish my drink

50 Word Stories: The Magical Land of Illuria

Wonders never ceased in the magical land of Illuria. Powderpuff clouds of magenta and green sailed tangerine skies, the crimson dragons skimming them like flying turtles the waves. Dreamlike and beautiful, I saw it all from behind the chewing gum bars of my candy prison. Time for my pills again.

Fireflies and Plum

  
A flittering, fluttering purple and plum, they split the night in incandescence. Choosing to alight on the old, oak tree, the little ones began their dance. I remained hidden, secreted behind a rhododendron bush a spellbound observer. Purple was wrong, I knew that, an unnatural hue, but all the more staggering because of it. How nature made me marvel in those hours.

As the sun rose the fireflies vanished melting into a tomorrow I’d wished never to reach. In shades of sunburst the magic diminished until there was none left at all. I departed hollow and heartbroken, but would return ever after in prayers of fireflies and plum.

A Most Beautiful Witch

She hid in her house of crumbling brick

Afraid of the daylight, it made her quite sick

Afraid of the noisy, the loud and the brash

Preferring the moonlight and nights soothing sash

Caring for nature in ways we would miss

With eyes like the moon, such sweet silvered bliss

Until come one midnight, we call Halloween

She emerged to the darkness thinking unseen

With me at her coatails, enraptured, you see

By most beautiful witch there ever would be

She climbed to a tor and chanted a rhyme

But I was lost to her powers almost all the time

She turned to me glowing in magical light

And held out her hand, but not as to fright

And there in the darkness she took me to be

Her private familiar, as I didn’t flee

Forever and ever, she said, that’s our lot

And wrapped up in darkness two bats flew aloft

In night sky and moonbeams was where we remained

A man and his witch bride in faerie’s domain