The deep hours of the night were hot and dark; even the full moon had moved away on its path and stars had faded away to barely there pinpricks. Long restless hours went by with no sleep. Sirens in the distance, dogs barking. Her husband had been gone for several days and the lonely nights alone were wearing on her with no sleep. But tonight felt different. Wrong somehow. She was uneasy and couldn't determine the why of it. Long hot baths didn't help, nor the instant but fleeting gratification of an orgasm.Lying there contemplating everything and nothing, a very faint, barely there sound jerked her head toward the dark doorway to the room. Squinting into the shadows, heart pounding, she slowly slid out of bed. Stopping every few steps to listen, no other sounds came but the air flowing from the vents above. She made a very slow and cautious circuit through the house, exploring every single room, flipping switches. Peering through the window slats into the backyard yielded no

The humid air of Georgia condensed on my window. I eyed the thin line of magic that lingered constantly a foot away from my property line. It was a very small and insignificant vigil. A simple thing, an alert, for when someone enters the property. My body tensed and shivered, my fears was pungent, intensified by the lack of the lack of any protection around the house.The house was a beautiful whitewashed charming Victorian, a spectacular piece of history. I however, did not select it for its historic charm, but for more pragmatic reasons. Old houses tended to have older energies, while the aged wood already possessed a base of malleable magic. The only thing that prevented me from laying down proper protections was simply the due to the nature of my powers.My move, had unfortunately left my few belongings isolated, allowing the barren walls to heighten my loneliness. This unfortunately, was brushed aside by the whims of my stomach. It rumbled, protesting, in

Camilla and her friend Julie were spending Sunday afternoon wandering around in old downtown. Most of the buildings in the area dated back to the late 1800's. On this brisk and dreary early autumn day they looked every bit of their age."Want to go in here?" Julie asked.Camilla looked up at the building they were standing in front of. It was three stories high and made out of gray stone. She couldn't tell what its original purpose was. The sign on the front claimed it was a flea market."I don't know," Camilla hesitated. Something about the building gave her the creeps. From what she could see through the window she suspected it might actually have fleas."Oh, come on." Julie grabbed her by the arm and pulled her inside."Hello, girls." They were greeted by an elderly woman with silvery hair. She looked pleasant, but at the same time eyed them suspiciously."Hello." Camilla replied. She was used to people looking at her that way and didn't

She stands at the edge of the cliff looking down, and her dark, blue eyes sparkle as she looks over the ocean. She never could forget this one spot, could never push it out of her mind. She dreamt of it too often, and now, as if by magic, she was standing there looking over the ocean lit up by the light of the full moon. This kind of Friday night doesn't come around often. The wind rustles her raven black hair, and an evil smile forms on her beautiful face. She knew what to do. Now the question was, how was she going to do it? She looks up at the sky. It's clear, not a cloud in sight with every single star visible. Her dark hair made her skin even more pale, and her full lips even more red. Anya sat down carefully so as not to fall over, and her eyes never left the ocean. The night was warm for early April, but for her, it was always cold. She couldn't remember the last time she felt warm...or loved. Lost deep in thought, she hadn't realized that most of the night had slipped away.

Percival’s MemoryThe warrior spurred his horse and leaned forward, drawing back his curved sword and roaring out a challenge to the castle guards. Steel flashed in the sunlight, catching the bloody rays of sunset as the guards stepped out onto the packed earth of the courtyard.The warrior was good - and his horse was a fighter, too. The huge mount wheeled and turned, dodging pikes and sword tips easily as his rider dealt death from above. Horse and rider were seasoned veterans, survivors - victors - both successful practitioners of a profession that punished mistakes harshly.The castle guards did the best they could, but the battle was lopsided from the start. Unmounted and out of shape, the best they could hope for was to overwhelm the warrior by sheer force of numbers. Time and again, one or another of them would set a pike or lunge for the horse's belly to disembowel it and unseat the rider, only to have the monstrous beast read their minds a