Moonlight Rippled Unnaturally On The Lake As The Car Rounded The Curve To The Final Stretch Of Dirt Road

Hazel slashed her borrowed sword through the spiny, overgrown vines, creating a jagged path to the crumbling castle. She was grateful for her secondhand armor–she could hear the thorns scraping angrily against the metal, longing to tear her flesh but unable to gain purchase. She wondered how many knights had failed simply because they could move no further without a steed (surely, no horse would endure the torture of a thousand tangled scratches) or blinded by forgetting to secure the visor of their helmet. Hazel’s visor may have been twisted in spots and rusting in others, but she had ensured it would hold against the terrors of the vines. She was thankful for the months of studying she’d ensured prior to her quest. She’d snuck into her father’s shop to repair her brother's weathered armor as best she could, and she appreciated her efforts had not been in vain.

Hazel was panting by the time she reached the other side of the vines and beheld the castle. She heard rustling behind her and turned to watch the foliage wrapping unnaturally around itself to fill the hole she’d made.

“Well,” she breathed, “that’s unnerving.”

In spite of her misgivings, she moved toward the castle. The keep was surrounded by a moat, and the only access an aging drawbridge that was shut tight. Hazel peered over the edge of the moat. There were no monsters lurking in the murky waters, but if she fell in with full armor, she would quickly sink to her death. She could see the remnants of metal within the muddy depths and glimpsed what may have been a bony arm. The water wasn’t deep, but it was enough.

Undaunted, Hazel pulled her crossbow from her back and checked the knotwork on the rope she'd tied to the bolt. She put her foot in the stirrup and pulled the string back to the catch, loaded the bolt, aimed, and fired. The bolt shot true and lodged itself firmly between two large stones at the top of the wall. Hazel yanked the rope as hard as she could, and when it held, she leaned back with her full weight. The bolt remained solidly in place. She wrapped the rope around her arm. This was a moment of truth–she could walk away now and avoid the possibility of a watery grave, or she could take a literal leap of faith. She closed her eyes and lept...

https://vocal.media/pride/the-knight-s-error

Simpatico

Ceramic mug steaming

Warm, cinnamon-spiced.

Percussive pattering

On window-panes.

Wet leaves dancing,

Hyper-green against

Rolling grey.

Book in hand, cat in lap,

Pajama-clad and robe-wrapped;

These are my loves.

From Inside the Room

She awoke, her mind in a fog, trying to remember where she was and how she’d gotten here. Her head was pounding and she was nauseated. Had she been drinking? The last thing she remembered was the café, and the man, and the smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, and the chill that smile made her feel. She tried to move, and couldn’t determine if she was having difficulty because of whatever she’d had to drink, or for some other reason she wasn’t willing to accept yet. The room was small and dark, but clean. The walls were white and windowless. There was a closed door. She was laying on something fluffy and comfortable, but she needed to pee and could tell she’d been here too long by the ache in her muscles. Struggling to get up again and finding she could not, she slowly craned her head up. It was exactly as she’d feared. Her wrists were tied to the elaborate metal headboard, and her ankles secured to the footboard. She felt her heart rate increase.

In Search of Lost Time

That madeleine moment,

Dunked in tea.

Precious fragments

Of the past,

Involuntary, unbidden,

Brought on by a certain, specific smell,

Triggering chains

(autobiographical)

Temporal, traumatic.

Recurrent research reactivates

To elicit positive emotional effects.

The bibliophile in the library,

Evoking borrowed memories.

Project: Akimoto

I was hoping to have this be a new print to sell at AZCAF last week…but then I had to go and catch COVID.

Anyway, enjoy the latest designs for Archanger, Jillian Akimoto and her alter-ego, Cutie Mask!

Blue-Grey

I am Blue-Grey

Cool on the outside, yet

Stormy on the inside,

It's hard to see, at sea

What lies beneath, but

There is something always churning,

Yearning for more

Than what's on the shore;

What's in store

For the future

No one can tell,

Well,

I, for one,

Am no longer satisfied

With the status-quo

I'm using my

Gift of Time

To find

Something more.

Derrick Pthalo, semi-retired henshin hero, has decided to take up magick as a hobby. Along the way he's gathered a diverse group of ladies to help him on his way. Life should be easy, but strange monsters seem to follow Derrick wherever he goes. What is the secret of Neo Teal Crisis?

An idea for a new story brought about by seeing multiple posts encouraging artists to make "really weird niche self-indulgent" stuff. I'm not sure where it would go, but I do have a prologue chapter written in my head.