Cold stone floor
And withered leaves
The night was brooding
O’er the wind

Flames were weary
Mist all gathering
Caught in twilight
Breaths all thin

A web of dust
Laid on stone
The spider coughed
And crawled alone

The stars were crowns
Waiting while watching
The leaves swinging
In the night whispering

Blue the new moon
And bitter his song
Sung by the gulls
Or the owls on the bough

Quiet, dark, alive.
A shaking hand to hold.
Do you hear music in the distance?
Faint and eerie
Beautiful.
A dance in the trees.
Flickering shadows, soft lights.
Your hands aren’t shaking anymore.
Enchanted creatures, peering from behind birches.
Do you see this elsewhere?
Magic, seeping through your blood.
Mystery, awakening your nerves.
Is this really something that happens every day?

The shadows sweep

And shadows fall

Across the weeping sky

Eyes as black as a devil’s soul

Through clouds of smoke did peer

A lady in peril and he was bound

Not by honor, not by fear, but by magic

To help the lady, dear

With a single sweep he broke the bonds that bound

The lady, dear

Normal 0 Years later, Kaitlin came back to her aunt’s house. She was now sixteen and her aunt expected her to get married. She was planning lots of parties and calls and things like that. Kaitlin had never really forgotten her encounter with that boy. But now she pushed it to the back of her mind as she rode down the broad path to her aunt’s house. As she looked to the side of the road, she thought she saw something looking out at her from behind a tree. She shook it from her head as the carriage approached the front gate of the huge estate her aunt called home.

Thank you HomeschoolGirl for the title to this story.

One might say it was ironic, but he did not find it funny.

The wind swept over hallowed ground as darkness lay upon the earth. How ironic that his last glimpse of freedom was a graveyard.

Her hand was cold in his. He looked into her icy cold eyes and knew what he felt must be true.  The only human he'd ever loved had bound him into servitude.

I was far too tired to stay awake, but the tipping and jolting of the carriage combined with my fear prevented me getting any sleep. So, as the brougham made its way through the darkness, I curled up against the bulky pack of my belongings and closed my eyes, pretending to rest.

I tried to think about Havenwing. It was safe there. There I would be beyond the reach of the wild country and the creatures that inhabited it.

~For the Theme of Spring, a Mysterious Jar

You’re spinning by 

Too fast for me to hold you 

My arms are reaching, my hands are grasping

You’re passing me by my fingertips

You are glowing,

Glowing like the moon is within your skin

You laugh and pass me by

Like mist in the hills

There mist lays white-brushed clouds  

Yet it’s unreachable

Your wings are silver

Glimmering like a fish’s tail 

As the sun goes down
I hear the sound
Of breezes rustling through the cherry trees.
Calm blue of dusk
White-grey of shadowed blossoms
Pale pink of horizon.
A perfect night for lovers
A perfect night for dreamers
For those who long for what lies past the stars
For those who think wistfully of the dangerous depths of the sea.