What the researchers discovered was that magic came not from humans, but from animals. Or rather, from the relationship with them.
Those who gave their cats warm affection developed magic of shadow and illusion.
Those who played and pranced with their dogs developed the ability to heal and energise.
Those who sat quietly with their snakes became powerful diviners, and those who were kind to their mice could teleport.
But, the studies showed, more animals didn’t necessarily mean more magic. What mattered was that you loved them, and spent time with them.
And to be cruel or neglectful for the sake of your magic would twist you in horrible ways.…
It pulled itself from the mud and grit, a man-sized, amphibious thing of slimy skin, narrow teeth, and dark, cold eyes.
‘Stay away,’ it hissed, holding out webbed hands tipped with heavy claws. ‘I will fight you if I must!’
The human set aside their backpack and knelt. ‘I didn’t mean to startle you,’ they said. ‘My name’s Eden. I won’t hurt you.’
It lowered its claws. ‘You won’t hurt me?’
‘I won’t.’ They paused. ‘Do you like coffee?’
‘I’ll be right back.’…
It was as simple as clicking a few boxes on their site.
‘Internet’s Mail-Order Magic Letters: Bring some magic into your life!’
They didn’t ask for an address, or payment details. It seemed harmless enough.
Then came the letters.
The first opened in a spray of glitter that dissipated into the air. ‘CONFIDENCE!’ it read. She negotiated a promotion that day.
The next unfolded itself in her hands, and crooned bedtime stories from a small illustrated mouth. She got her first full night’s sleep in weeks.
Then the next held ‘good luck’ coins. She gave them to a beggar, who hugged her on the street the next day, their fortunes turned.…
Have I ever told you about the time I went to a party in a house full of faces?
It happened this week, in fact.
It’s #VicorvaStorytime! CW for spookiness and a few pictures of manniquins and taxidermy.
This time, it has to be in a blog post. It’s just too long for Mastodon.
After a hard month of crazed writing during NaNoWriMo, Joh and I were attending the TGIO (or Thank God It’s Over) Party.
The plan was to play board games and stuff ourselves with snacks and have a wonderful time with our fellow writing nerds.
This year it was in a new location, which had been offered to us for free by one of our participants.…
This year I entered the fifth annual SPFBO, or Self-Published Fantasy Blog-Off. I didn’t really know what to expect, except that my book is completely unknown so the chance of getting any eyes on it was welcome. This isn’t the story of my unexpected rise to the heady heights of competition winner — I didn’t even make it out of Phase 1, though I did earn the title Semi-Finalist, which was nice.
But, as they say, winning isn’t everything, and I’ve gotten so much more from this competition than I ever expected.
There’s A Self-Publishing Community!
Honestly, one of the hardest parts of self-publishing has been that I don’t really know others doing the same.…
‘It’ll be simple,’ he said, voice barely shaking. ‘Run in, grab the treasure, run out.’
‘What about the monsters?’ she replied. ‘What about the dragon?’
‘Well … we’ll move too fast for them, thanks to this.’ He hefted his newly purchased spellbook. ‘And you have the sword if anything goes wrong.’
‘I do not feel confident I could take on a
‘We won’t have to!’
They clasped hands and he cast the spell, again and again. Walls crumbled before them to reform behind them.
All manner of twisted beasts and grasping undead howled at them, but they were gone each time before anything could be done.…
It started slowly, as most Awakenings do.
She would hum as she brushed her sisters hair, and sparks would fly from the brush.
She would whistle to her hounds, who would race to her side with the speed and silence of ghosts.
She would gaze across the stormy sea and scream her frustration into the wind.
Then came the song. And the feathers. And the fury.
But when she sang people to throw themselves into the crushing tides, only the cruel ever listened.
Noupload from Pixabay.… Read more
A high-pitched howl woke her before dawn. She sat up, rubbing her eyes, as the desperate cries continued.
‘Mara, darling?’ she called.
The howls stopped. They were followed by short meow.
She sighed, and climbed out of bed. As she shuffled into the other room, she rubbed the sleep dust from her eyes.
There, bathed in silver light from the window, was a cat-like creature of enormous size, tabby fur, and an oddly human shape.
The creature turned wide eyes toward the human.
‘Did you see another cat, darling?’
Mara nodded, then looked back out the window.
The woman smiled tiredly and came to stand beside her.…
She stared hard into the enchanted pool, trying to recognise these new features. Smooth skin and tumbling curls, wide eyes with long lashes. A human face she had yearned for for long years.
But it had been her goat face that had laughed with friends. Been lion hands that first clasped Janna’s tightly. It had been her serpent tail that had saved her from the cruel knight.
That body had been pain. It had been torturous. A curse she had never wanted or deserved. But it had been all she had known for so long.
As her tears fell into the pool, she felt hands at her shoulder, at her arm, taking her hand.…
This is a serial fiction posted in one toot daily (ish) during October on Mastodon. It was unplanned and experimental, and I’m pretty happy with the result. I hope you enjoy it. ( original format)
I’m a ghost but I never died, or at least I don’t remember it. Memory and shape are both unfixed concepts to me. The only time I ever feel real is when someone sees me.
I have no power over who can see me or what they’ll see when they do. Human minds do something with my aether, project onto it, give it a form it doesn’t really have.