rocky-cactus

[rocky-cactus]

Short Story prompt - A flock of phoenix shows up in a city, each one bringing different events. 

No one had seen a black Phoenix before. It showed up in the night, its long black feathers looked like they’d been dipped in pitch, an aura of heat emanating from its large body. The morning of the games, it let out a loud, long, low crow that shook the walls of our small shack. Mother spoke for the first time that morning and said the sound reminded her of a dying raven.

Many of the townspeople refused to believe this was our games talisman this year. That based on tradition, this year’s talisman should have been orange or red. Several said they were going to complain to the king for ‘not following tradition’.

I packed my baskets of eggs and began my delivery route for the day.

The baker had said the year his son won the games the Phoenix had been green “with emeralds for eyes” and that when he won they’d had the highest sales they’d ever had. His son had gone on to marry a duchess and was living a quiet, rich life in the country.

The miller said his daughter had joined the games during a blue Phoenix year some 30 years ago, and that its flames had burned almost white. He said after she won, they’d been able to build a water wheel and now he didn’t have to grind the wheat by hand. She’d gone on to become the King’s engineer, building bridges for the castle.

As I deposited my last basket of eggs to the old woman who lived in the cottage by the cemetery, she mentioned seeing this black Phoenix once before, as a child long ago.

“I was a sickly child when my sister joined the games,” her voice shook as she spoke, pointing up at the small dot that sat perched on the King’s castle. I could see the rays of heat still emanating from its body, throwing them over the castle. “As my parents’ used to tell it, I was suddenly cured and have been the healthiest and happiest for my entire life.”

“And your sister?” I asked.

She looked at me sadly, patting me on the head.

“Run home, child.” She handed me the basket of herbs as I walked back home.

When I arrived home, I gave my mother the herbs I’d received from the old healer at the cemetery. I watched as my mother, still bedridden, coughed violently.

I packed a small bag, waved goodbye to my brother, and walked towards the castle.

[rocky-cactus]

Stories I May Never Write

There was a legend, whispered in the sea taverns and late at night in the brothels by the docks, of a pirate captain so brave, so ferocious, that nary a man alive could win against them. A captain so adept and steady at the wheel that not once had the vessel been damaged. A captain so generous and wise that every man onboard the Windswept Beauty would go to the grave with the Captain's secret on their lips. But a few keen deckhands and one acute madame had a theory about the Windswept Beauty's mysterious and aloof Captain, a theory that would be tested with the rescue of a Duke and the treacherous voyage to bring him home

[rocky-cactus]

The fae have a legend, passed from the ones before us and the ones before them. They told tale of a princess who would have the power of light. She would bring either peace or destruction to our land. On the eve of her coronation, she would choose her path, and therefore the fate of those who would come after us.

It was a story, for a long time, until Queen Rioghan gave birth to a baby girl who, upon her birth shone brighter than the sun. She named her Aoife, meaning beauty.

But on the eve of her coronation, Aoife was stolen, her father, the Prince, murdered. With the crowned prince dead and her daughter missing, Queen Rioghan, in her despair, locked herself away.

Without the royal family, the fae hid from the world. To the point that no one believed in them anymore.

Until one night, when a fae soldier broke the seal in search of something stolen from the fae world. But what he found instead would uproot both fae and human realms alike.