I Join The New Avalon_Sirenia's Gift_"A Price To Pay"_Through the Glass Door
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I Join The New Avalon
"You got that right sister!" Fortune said, and then laughed. Raven and Bast joined in with her.The night of my first spell, our lovewww.onedoor.cc spell, we passed through the mists of the mundane world. Daneb, Jane, Catherine, and Brandie fell away as the witches Lupa, Raven, Bast, and Fortune rose from those mortal shells.I wore my dark red silk robe, designed to entice and to lure, as I would wear it for you, my love. My sisters were equally splendid, with Raven forgoing her usual black for deep purple, Bast in a midnight blue robe that matched her shining eyes, and Fortune in the green of a gardenia lea...
Sirenia's Gift
Sirenia's Gift“Sirenia, wake up Darling,” said Mother as she tries to rouse me from my sleep.“No, go away Mother,” I moan from underneath my nice soft comforter.“Sweetheart, I need you to wake up. I know it's early but it's your 18th birthday and I have a surprise for you.”“A surprise? All right, I'm up. What is it, Mother?” I ask as I rub the sleep from my eyes.My Mother, who has almost the same amount of patience as Job, looks endearingly upon me and hands me a plain wrapped gift. Completely awake now, I sit up holding this strange package in my hands; feeling the warmth and heft coming from...
"A Price To Pay"
Simon could feel the rough bark of the massive tree biting into the bare skin of his back as he pushed with all his might against it. He wasn't foolish enough to believe his piddling efforts had any hope of toppling it. The enormous oak had supposedly been there for over a thousand years. It's gnarled and unyielding branches had easily borne the weight of all the many supposed witches, dissidents and pickpockets who had been most unceremoniously hung from them. Their piteous fates had been doled out by a long lineage of tyrants who had ruled these lands with an unwavering lack of mercy. It was...
Through the Glass Door
For 75 years of Carson's existence, never had he believed that such a thing as "colors" exist. He had read about it once of course, when his mama still used to tie his shoes. It was a book called "The Rainbow of Myth." For years, the idea about a multicolored arc across the horizon did nothing but dissipated Carson's faint hope about a scintillating world. He sat beside the door of his dingy cabin, his vision muddled from his sleep. His spectacle clouded by the morning mist. The cardigan stitched by his very own wife, Blessinda, rest her soul, hung loosely on his wrinkled waist. The plains thi...