(2/2)

Instead, they made a decision, because the world can be blamed for your pain but not for your cruelty, and that small and cold spirit inside them still longed to do and be better than what had spawned them.

They turned hunger into hibernation. Pain into transformation. And they embraced the cold because it was beautiful even if it was terrible, and waited for warmer days.

Thus was the Regent of Winter born, and their reign was characterised by hope.

They hungered. Not just for food, though they needed it. Not just for shelter or love, though they wanted it. They were hungry because their spirit was being starved.

The world had taken from them again and again and they were fast becoming a husk. Something thin and twisted and locked away from sun and sanity.

They could feel it happening. It would be easy to become a hag, like so many before them. To take that hunger and turn it into miserable, malicious power.

(1/2)

microfiction woes 

β€˜It’s just a pigeon,’ said the girl. β€˜Let it die.’

The boy lifted it with gentle hands. It was too weak to struggle. He could feel its heartbeat against his fingertips. β€˜It just needs help, that’s all.’

He nursed it day and night. Warmed it by a lamp, cleaned its wounds. Fed it from his hand. Every day it grew stronger. And larger.

After a week, it was the size of a cat. A month, a dog. It gazed at him with adoring eyes. And one day, it would carry him into the sky.

She saw on TV that ghosts made things cold, and she’d always had chilly feet at night.

So she found a stone with a hole through the middle and she waited under the covers until the chill made her toes curl.

Gently, she sat up, closing one eye and holding the stone up to the other.

Shimmering and thin as a beam of moonlight, the cat stretched and resettled on her feet.

She smiled and went back to bed, careful not to kick.

She’d always wanted a cat.

(2/2)

'I don't know,' said the first. She looked up at the other with haunted eyes. 'Somehow, that's worse than if I did, isn't it? I don't know.'

It was, but she held out her hand to the blood-splattered knight. 'We can talk about it on the way back.'

'You mean to put me on trial.' The disdain in her voice was clear.

'I do. But we can talk about it.'

The knight stiffened, her gaze returning to the wind-tossed waves.

'Okay,' she said.

She sat overlooking the ocean, legs dangling from the clifftop. Her blackened armour was beaded with gore, but her sword was plunged into the earth behind her.

Another woman approached, limping and clutching a spreading wound in her side. In her other hand was a glowing knife.

Without looking around, the first said, 'So you're here to kill me?'

The second hesitated.

'I deserve it,' she added.

'You do,' the second agreed. 'Why did you do it?'

(1/2)

(2/2)

'Needles, too?'

They nodded again.

In spite of herself, she smiled. 'Well, it's always exciting when someone joins the craft. I'll see if I can find something waterproof for you ...'

They curled all their tentacles up and slitted their eyes in delight.

They unfurled a tentacle, blinking their many eyes, and pointed at the brightly coloured rack behind the woman.

She gawped a moment, then regained her composure. 'You're here for yarn?'

They bobbed their bulbous, cephalpodal head, then pointed to the rack to her left.

(1/2)

The cat stood watch at the foot of the bed while his witch thrashed and screamed. An empty glass bottle bounced from the bed to scatter into shards across the floor.

Her flesh roiled, sometimes skin, sometimes scales. Her bones creaked like old wood. And at times, her eyes were wide and full of fire.

The cat understood only a little. He knew she was changing. He knew she was afraid. And he knew he loved her.

So he kept watch and waited to see what she would become.

New time!

I'm kind of a mess -- but a friendly one!

I'm an author, a , and a moon in training.

I talk a lot about my familiar, Merlin the cat.

I post a lot of and for free -- mostly cute creatures and monster romance and .

I toot awkward true stories in

I love

I'm the eldest of seven siblings and nearly all of us are queer.

I'm very awkward but do say hello!

Wandering Shop

The Wandering Shop is a Mastodon instance initially geared for the science fiction and fantasy community but open to anyone. We want our 'local' timeline to have the feel of a coffee shop at a good convention: tables full of friendly conversation on a wide variety of topics. We welcome everyone who wants to participate, so long as you're willing to abide by our code of conduct.