This is just to inform the world that not only am I finally writing again, but I am writing a same-sex dark soul-mate story for the magazine. Not that I'm trying to push at the confines of Catholic education or... Continue Reading →
Some of you may have noticed a pop-up within the past day or so. Basically I've decided to try to do this thing where I try to write at least one story a month, and at the end of each... Continue Reading →
Clad in saffron robes, splattered with blood, it is not hard to guess Enyo’s meaning. She is the giver of Horror, the Waster of Cities, and she delights in it. She has not the longing for death of her sister Dread, for each sister is plagued by her own meaning, and Enyo has no dread of the future to hold her back, just a horror of the present and of what has already happened. The horror of innocents is the sweetest of tastes, and she savours it whenever it is available, for as with their eye, the sisters share but one tooth between them. It does not help her feed on food, but on what her power causes, and she delights in this small freedom each day.
She’s been grey for as long as she can remember, from the moment of her birth, and will be until the moment of her death. When death comes at last, a sweet release from the dark world she lives in, time will reverse itself, to an era that has never been before. When death comes at last, the darkness that surrounds her will fade, and light will blossom. When death comes at last, her crooked back will straighten, her hair will fade from grey to black, and her cheeks will bloom with the delicate pink of the youth that she was denied. But that will not happen yet.