In our youth we met, sharing the futures we laid and the promise we made Never to forget.
Our love we strive to aggrade, though it slips, trapped in a bullpen. The promise of now shifts to when Never to fade.
Now silence is my friend, as I replay the glory and the heartaches of our story Never to meet again.
Endless abyss Ice claws up my skin Peace held amiss My eternity will begin. Drifting alone in this space All direction loses meaning As I hunger for a warm embrace Heaven’s hearth I see gleaming. Time feels to stand still While I attempt to beach Swim with all my will, Flame just out of reach. Lights shine on far Someday I’ll reach my star.
Flames lick upon my soul As I betray those I hold close To praise, worship, extol You my king I shall unclose. Betrayal and strife I interpose For gifted anger is how I grew My ambitious might deepens my woes For I would be anything for you.
Your spirit, the prince hath stole His aims I shall expose The thrown be his final goal. As blessed kin arise your foes, The onyx plot we wish compose The feathered reign be born anew. My strength and will I now propose For I would be anything for you.
The heat of trust but a coal Forsaken by your own primrose Seats of power we wish control Track the beast, The One Who Knows. Shagged fur and teeth erose The only one that holds the clue May your son and I be juxtapose For I would be anything for you.
My fury none shall depose Your honor I wish to accrue. Praise be my Lord of Crows For I would be anything for you.
Mist pours from the open windows of Dr. Winda’s home laboratory, in tandem with a cacophony explosions and electricity. Once a beloved member of the community, now ostracized for her obsession with the occult. Ever since the death of her young son, Jeremiah, many began to believe she was responsible for it. Withering with time Dr. Winda has become the monster her old community believed her to be.
Cackling with excitement as her latest experiment was finally a success. Her past tied to that of a healer, her present is one of a being with power over life itself. By the light of the full moon Dr. Winda brought life back to her son. It was all worth it. Everybody wants to judge, but nobody wants to listen.
On a snow-covered night in Chester, Billy Mill’s found himself fighting for his life against beasts stalking from the shadows. Hunting is something Billy was familiar with but never as the hunted. After 3 weeks of his peers disappearing with the only evidence being a red stain in the snow and claw marks raked across trees. Whispers of ancient legends are coming to life in this small, isolated town. Those who don’t learn from them may be doomed to succumb to them. With only a week left until the winter soltando, one question remains. Will Billy survive this silent night or will he be the final sacrifice?
Genia was once a magical land teeming with awe-inspiring creatures everywhere you looked. As the decades surpassed and humans began to progress past the need for magic, relying on automation and robotics. These changes in the culture of the world led to the hunting of these beings for their essence. One by one the relics of our ancient world were believed to have been killed off; unicorns, mermaids, and until recently dragons. Recorded as the fiercest, most blood thirsty beings in existence, dragons once ruled the skies of Genia. Believed to have been driven to extinction for their valuable scales, a Wyrmling has been found in the Stormspire Mountains. Nature preservationists have descended onto this mountain range, weathering the permanent storms in order to protect this young survivor. Clad in electric blue scales and the sproutings of a crown of horns. The last dragon has taken to the lead preservationists, Vitori Lancing, who describes the presence of this young drake as reassuring and a sign that we haven’t fully forsaken the natural world. Many wish for the blue dragon to be put down for fear of what he may become, the eldest citizens across the land still remember the reign of Cobalas, The Thunder King. A cruel and tyrannical ruler that had been slain upwards of eighty years ago. Progressives within the nearest nations believe that without the influence of the dragons of old, this young prince may become a positive sign for the future. At this point the worst offense done by the lost wyrmling, named Deis for the second chance that he represents, is eating the left shoe of his protectors.
I recognized his eyes as soon as he walked through the door. I froze. I couldn’t do this right now. The crimson stare of Jemor Brenk is one I still see when I lay down to rest every night. I would give anything to be the young girl I was when we first met. Running around town and razing havoc everywhere we stepped, he truly was my best friend. Our friendship eventually started to develop into something more over the years; but that didn’t stop us from growing into very different people. The line of work he found himself in was one of violence and danger and for a time I stood by his side in that life. Everything changed though when I became pregnant. Suddenly my world flipped upside down and he refused to adjust his perspectives. The world he pulled me into wasn’t safe to raise a child. Once we learned of our daughter it was fight after fight between us. By the end I gave him an ultimatum: “his family or his job”. He failed to choose us so I made sure I wasn’t there when he came back. That was eight years ago.
I called every favor I could amass and made my way out of Litoria. The first year on the road was one of unending hardship. Although in the darkness there was light, it was on the road that I met Hikory. He took care of me in my darkest moments and even helped me deliver my daughter Semrial. Hikory stayed by my side and was my third and fourth hands with raising my daughter. We all traveled to Winfur, a small mountain side town persistently painted with a soft blanket of snow, where we settled down as a family. As almost a decade passes us by we were wed, opened our own pub, and preceded to have three more sons. I made a life for myself and my family only for my past to come charging through my front door. Stunned, I forced my voice to demand what he needed. His only response was a soul-less “My daughter.”, before he grabbed her and vanished in a swirl of flames teleporting to gods know where.
**_May 7th 1692
_**Dear Diary,
Its only one week from my birthday and I am most excited for it. I will be turning 16 and mother says that will mark the day I become a true woman in our family. Margery believes that the new boy in town, Marcus Proctor, may court me. He’s come a long way to Haverhill.
**_May 9th 1692
_**Dear Diary,
I’m sorry it’s been a few days, everything has just been going so fast. But I have good news, Margery was right. Marcus began courting me yesterday, I can’t spend a lot of time with him right now though. Mother has been really busy preparing for the celebration, sometimes I can’t tell if she’s more excited for my birthday or the Silver Moon. She told me we have to leave tonight so we can make it to the celebration on time.
May 11th 1962
Dear Diary,
We’re still a three days walk from the celebration. I don’t understand why we have to go so far, but mother just keeps telling me that we must “meet the kindred stone for the rite of heir to be sown”. At least I get to spend some time with mother.
May 12th 1962
Dear Diary,
Today was really scary, our camp was attacked by a bear. Mother told me to hide, but I didn’t want to leave her. I tried to run and help but as I started to I found my self stuck, like my feet had become rooted to the ground. I heard the roaring then some muttering from mother, but I could’nt make out the words. There was a flash of cerulean light then a thud, it was that moment that my feet could work again and I barreled toward her. When I got there the bear laid dead on the forest floor and my mother stood untouched. She hastily tied her hair back up and put her gloves on. Not before I caught a glimpse of her fingers though. They were a deep blue as if dunked in some type of substance. I’ll keep this updated if I notice anything else.
May 13th 1692
Dear Diary,
Mother says we’re less than a day away, she seems anxious. I keep having these weird dreams about shining wagons without horses and people hiding with cloth across their faces. I don’t know what any of it means, but I’m getting worried.
May 14th 1962
Dear Diary,
Tonight’s the night, I’m finally 16 and I can’t wait for the celebration. I had some strange dreams again but this time they were about flaming angles falling from the sky and unimaginable amounts of people gathered under the brightest candles I’ve ever seen. Mother has been asking if my dreams have been weird lately but I don’t want to worry her, besides tonight is meant to be fun.
May 20th 1962
Dear Diary,
I don’t know what’s happening, but I keep having these vivid dreams. Some of them are about people I know, but that’s not the weirdest part, they keep happening in real life. I can’t tell what’s a dream and what isn’t anymore. Mother told me not to worry, that this happened to her when she was my age and that I should keep it to myself unless sought out by someone. Apparently all the women in our family line have this happen to them.
May 29th 1962
Dear Diary,
It’s becoming harder to keep this a secret; more and more of my visions are coming true. I had one last night about Marcus, in my dream his fishing boat capsized dragging him to the bottom of Great Pond. I know mother told me not to share my visions, but I have to warn him.
June 6th 1962
Dear Diary,
I should have listened to mother. I thought I was doing the right thing, but Marcus started screaming that I was a witch. I tried to get back to mother, but by the time I arrived home was already a mob taking her away. We locked eyes and she yelled for me to run. I listened that time, I saw as they hoisted her upon the pire. I tried to look away but the light from the flames licking up her skin was too bright.
July 15th 1962
Dear Diary,
I haven’t stopped running, nowhere is safe. Every town I cross through I’m struck with a vision of the execution of one of their own all because one man cried witch. What’s even more worrisome is I fear I’ve foreseen my own death.
July 29th 1962
Dear Diary,
As I was passing near Salem I came across a young girl, Dorothy Good, no more than 6 years of age. She described how her father was one of her accusers. This poor girl lost her mother today, I’ll do my best to take her under my wing.
August 8th 1962
Dear Diary,
Dorothy is doing well. I’ve been teaching her all I know, which isn’t a lot. I can feel my end approaching faster each day, which I is why I need Dorothy to understand the dangers that plague men before it’s too late.
August 13th 1962
Dear Diary
Dorothy is showing so much potential, even at the age of 6 her abilities are beginning to show. While my skills lie in seeing what is to come, her’s exist within the art of illusion. She’s somehow managed to keep up hidden. As long as she continues to practice and build her patience, I see a long life for her.
September 1st 1962
Dear Diary,
The day is approaching rapidly and I fear I may not be able to ensure Dorothy’s safety once I’m gone. I will be spending each day writing all of the spells and lessons I’ve learned so that she may benefit as time goes on. I’m doing my best to prepare her.
September 21st 1962
Dear Diary,
This will be my last entry for tomorrow I will be killed. I will be struck down whilst freeing three of the eleven sentenced to death for whichcraft: Lydia (Standish) Sampson, Sarah (Waite) Stone, and Hannah (Bridges) Barton.
Dear Dorothy,
If you read this, I know it seems like only three isn’t worth my life, but their decendents will go on to influence the course of this country. Go on and be exceptional.
It’s been nearly a millennia since the virus wiped out all non-human life on earth, leaving us in the cold embrace of steel and concrete. Many of our elder’s still speak as if they were there when organisms walked on four legs. Even if their only exposure was through ancient texts.
My name is Brenith and I’m currently studying at the Prim University; where we are working towards bringing back these bizarre creatures. We hope that they will aid us in restoring a balance to our planet. The first and most challenging task is determining what creatures be resurrected first. I have been studying many beneficial creatures, although the purpose of some eludes me.
These beings titled “Cats” and “Dogs” seem prevalent in the house holds of ancient humans. Having met with many archaeologists, historians, and even theologians I have come to the conclusion that these “Cats” and “Dogs” may have existed as minor gods.
It is my firm belief that if my hypothesis be true, we should never bring back these to entities as they would disrupt our already unstable power balance.
Agatha’s Aberrant Antiques has been a staple in our town for decades. Honestly it’s one of the only places left that hasn’t been bought out by some big corporation. Agatha’s has always drawn me in; when you walk in it’s like the coldest, mothball invested hug. With it being a local shop I always do my best to support it and purchase something unique to spruce up my space; from small crystal balls to taxidermied critters. I’m currently going for a real cottage core witch vibe and Agatha’s has been a massive help. When I walked in today I was greeted with the gelid stare of the shop keep, Agatha Duch, who proceeded to pull out all of her newest finds. We’ve come to find a routine for when I visit. As I began sorting through everything I discovered a ghastly bony finger, which has to be fake because that would lead to so many legal issues if it wasn’t, something about it called to me and I had to have it. Agatha must really be starting to like me because she practically threw it at me and shoved me out of the store. It wasn’t long before I started hearing the whispers, I had nearly gotten home when I was having a full blown conversation with this new voice in my head. He said his name was William ll de Soules, the brash accent was surprising if not entertaining. He wouldn’t stop raving about some redcap he had to get. Which I can understand I am a bit of a hat person myself. What really took me off guard though was as the night went on he became more and more real or maybe I was becoming more like him. I’m not the best at accents but Scottish brogue was spot on as I was having conversations with myself in the mirror. Except after a while I wasn’t having them in the mirror, I was in the mirror having them with myself. Which is beyond trippy to see. Lowkey, I was more aggravated when my body turned and walked away from me spoutting on and on about some goblin king, because that’s just rude to do mid conversation. Anyways, that’s how I ended up here in the afterlife.
