Yeah, I went back to Earth. I don’t know why, there’s very little to use for magic there. There used to be, according to some old demons and monsters. But all the roads and cars and cities and
Tag Archives: poet
Blight Reaper
Sliptide’s sleeping lover dozed in the den, yet mud from hundreds of years of monsoons had nearly closed the opening. I didn’t unblock it, though, since she still had several thousand
sow chaos
I stayed until the night’s life left my wrinkled skin and white hair as old as ever, but I was so scared to check if Sliptide got her memories back that of course I punished myself by tracking her down
Sha la la la
If I shapeshifted to a tree, I’d have to make sure I kept my human brain in there–fed well enough to maintain functionality–so I’d have the presence of mind to shapeshift back. If I wanted to
tear me down
I saw Sliptide again. Touched her tail like skin-to-skin contact would tell me what she’d think of me if I somehow released memories into her. But she just
12- do you think
do you think there’s a league of mindless immortal dragons advocating for their rights (answer: unknown) Do you think it’s easier to return to the astral plane while gutted on
HArvest
The night went searching for my body to physically crush me but inside its maw I went too and with closeness, the link between muscle and memory met like magnets
REmemory
In the memory, you sit on a silver egg. It’s as round as you are tall, and your fur-lined shoe fits on one of its beige polka dots. Your hair’s black and
AFter a FAshion
I found you, after a fashion. I found the memory of a dragon who found you, sixteen years through witch school, less than half her way toward graduation (if it took
hunting & in the astral
hunting ingredients I’d already gathered took half as long the second time though I did have to find another fish with eyeballs big
Jordyn Saelor 