Previous Chapters *** Wind I got in with a spell Sliptide told me. I got in shielding myself with a summoning circle around my knees with runes for sanity, speed, and resolve. I got in, muttering under my breath, “Clarak, slar, helva garden rill tiv lo wisphel li o caral o tara car y (open,Continue reading “Wind & Qind”
Tag Archives: emotion
Mind
You don’t need an astral plane, Sliptide said, eating her fish. You need to recover from whatever you did and saw on that stone mesa. And I said, I spent seventy years learning what took most demons and
I asked Sliptide
I asked Sliptide one night under the spinning moons and planet’s rings if she’d ever met a witch before. Not because I wondered about you, Clarissa; mountain dragons and green dragons have fundamentally different
6- up again
(slight trigger warning for this poem: short descriptions of death and carnage) *** The green dragon almost didn’t want to go back home, she wanted to fly past the desert I’d never crossed and find a sea and eat the
5- down with
how long do you think it took me to leave? Not just leave The City, but leave the icy sun, stone mesa and copper domes where people and rats lived? The kid who
Rails
Rails, Rails, Off the Rails, hear her wails–Rails, Rails, she must fail, fall to
4- kid
The kid had a name. Most kids in The City didn’t. The City discouraged naming people, said names distracted them from their jobs in the factories, in the farms, in the offices. Only the patrollers got names: if you chose to join (technically, everyone who joined chose
My first hero
The copper dome could’ve been a school or a mansion or a hill somebody polished. But people definitely lived inside, I could hear them talking, their machines buzzing, noises drifting to the mesa like heartbeats through a demon’s
Strings of Fate
My two elective Strings of Fate classes had the names “divining the weave of the future” and “karma as a lens for interpreting the past.” In my fifteenth year I studied karma and in my seventeenth I studied weaves; yes, I know the stereotypical approach would be to
Pocket of Rage
Sorry, sorry, my bad, I don’t have the words for why. Make a mistake break a cake freak out and shout end the tear duct drought stab Gacks and slay racks, I’m so angry I could just cry the whole time.
Jordyn Saelor 