What do you feel when you see this?

Astounded? Anxious? Relieved? Regretful?

Does the purple cloud it seem to be joyous and free or scared and abandoned?

Does the storm seem like something you or the purple cloud could face?

Is it something you’d avoid as much as possible?

Does this make you want to go on a journey or hideaway in a remote cabin?

Giving into the comfy and familiar, or weathering t...

Purple skies

And grey cold nights

Living life like non before us

Magic beasts

And purple feats

Done like non before us

All because a little mass

A common mass

All this wonder

All this magic

Hidden away

In this slice of enchantment

But do be warned it also holds

A defense wall

Rejecting all

But me and my purple parasol...

Other people seem to love beauty. Color. The things that excite the eye, that stand out, that seem unreal. It’s different for me. I don’t like the word beautiful. It feels uncomfortable to me. Color is uncomfortable, new is uncomfortable. Beauty and wonder aren’t what I look for. I find comfort in the most basic things, the old, tired things, the unremarkable. The parts of the photo that your eyes...

Peace upon you every day that you honor your ancestors. Prosperity to the village that carries out their destined lineage.

That’s what Sellaa tells herself as she treks again through freezing winter pines and fields of prickling death. If this were not the way of her people, she would much rather remain home by the fireside warm and alone.

Instead, she continues to approach the clearing up ahea...

Despite her elders warning her not to, she set out on a clouded afternoon while they busied themselves at the market first, eggs were on sale, and then church, keeping up appearances. Why they were so intent on blending in with the non magical folk, she could never fathom. This was surely a gift to use and help build a new world, for them too.

Deep heathers and wet grasses dampened her cloak, emb...

And there it was - on an old beaten path through thickly grown and long dead weeds - that I tried to save myself.

I knew the words by heart. I knew it could only work among the sighs of ancient pines and cricket cries.

And so I recited the words that had always worked before, the words that could always bring me back to the surface. As the air thickened and grew heavy with unspent magic, I lif...

The mysterious purple stormcloud was purple and a women was holding a purple umbrella and the grass is mysterious thing is slithering...

Each step forward I feel the weight

maybe baggage I’m just too afraid to get rid of

Holding me back from the person that I’m supposed to be

the vision beauty and so much color

Yet

the same old black and white stain me

at this point the colors have been becoming more bright.

The shapes have been becoming more clear

I know exactly where I want to be at the end of my years

Your eyes so piercing...

My sister is dead. As I watch the magical, purple fumes of death take her away, I am angry and sorrowful.

Dreem was my only sibling since our parents were executed 20 years ago by the evil witch, Narcissa. I was only 3 months old while Dreem was 2 years old. We were forced under supervision by Narcissa’s in-laws, whom she also tortured and enslaved. I grew up eating breadcrumbs and drinking water...

Today I walk a long, grueling walk.

Each step heavy and rife with passion.

With the first stride looms Bitterness.

The second moulds Loathing.

The third wrenches Malice.

The fourth claws at Wrath.

Raw emotion eddies within me and rouses the land I devour.

I stagger one last step down the serpentine path, unable to contain the savageness building within me.

I stop and turn slowly.

All colour ...