Umasabirah - These Are The Things That Keep Me Up At Night...

Derrick Pthalo, semi-retired henshin hero, has decided to take up magick as a hobby. Along the way he's gathered a diverse group of ladies to help him on his way. Life should be easy, but strange monsters seem to follow Derrick wherever he goes. What is the secret of Neo Teal Crisis?

An idea for a new story brought about by seeing multiple posts encouraging artists to make "really weird niche self-indulgent" stuff. I'm not sure where it would go, but I do have a prologue chapter written in my head.

#art

Derrick Pthalo, semi-retired henshin hero, has decided to take up magick as a hobby. Along the way he's gathered a diverse group of ladies to help him on his way. Life should be easy, but strange monsters seem to follow Derrick wherever he goes. What is the secret of Neo Teal Crisis?

An idea for a new story brought about by seeing multiple posts encouraging artists to make "really weird niche self-indulgent" stuff. I'm not sure where it would go, but I do have a prologue chapter written in my head.

Things Hidden

The road

Was all we could see

For a few feet, only

As we passed through Enchantment,

And only our imaginations

Could dream 

What was hidden in

That Fog;

Were there eyes

Watching us pass?

Were there secrets

We were never meant to know?

On we traveled

And the haze parted

We made it home...

Though maybe 

Just barely?

Hazel slashed her borrowed sword through the spiny, overgrown vines, creating a jagged path to the crumbling castle. She was grateful for her secondhand armor–she could hear the thorns scraping angrily against the metal, longing to tear her flesh but unable to gain purchase. She wondered how many knights had failed simply because they could move no further without a steed (surely, no horse would endure the torture of a thousand tangled scratches) or blinded by forgetting to secure the visor of their helmet. Hazel’s visor may have been twisted in spots and rusting in others, but she had ensured it would hold against the terrors of the vines. She was thankful for the months of studying she’d ensured prior to her quest. She’d snuck into her father’s shop to repair her brother's weathered armor as best she could, and she appreciated her efforts had not been in vain.

Hazel was panting by the time she reached the other side of the vines and beheld the castle. She heard rustling behind her and turned to watch the foliage wrapping unnaturally around itself to fill the hole she’d made.

“Well,” she breathed, “that’s unnerving.”

In spite of her misgivings, she moved toward the castle. The keep was surrounded by a moat, and the only access an aging drawbridge that was shut tight. Hazel peered over the edge of the moat. There were no monsters lurking in the murky waters, but if she fell in with full armor, she would quickly sink to her death. She could see the remnants of metal within the muddy depths and glimpsed what may have been a bony arm. The water wasn’t deep, but it was enough.

Undaunted, Hazel pulled her crossbow from her back and checked the knotwork on the rope she'd tied to the bolt. She put her foot in the stirrup and pulled the string back to the catch, loaded the bolt, aimed, and fired. The bolt shot true and lodged itself firmly between two large stones at the top of the wall. Hazel yanked the rope as hard as she could, and when it held, she leaned back with her full weight. The bolt remained solidly in place. She wrapped the rope around her arm. This was a moment of truth–she could walk away now and avoid the possibility of a watery grave, or she could take a literal leap of faith. She closed her eyes and lept...

https://vocal.media/pride/the-knight-s-error

Simpatico

Ceramic mug steaming

Warm, cinnamon-spiced.

Percussive pattering

On window-panes.

Wet leaves dancing,

Hyper-green against

Rolling grey.

Book in hand, cat in lap,

Pajama-clad and robe-wrapped;

These are my loves.

Moonlight rippled unnaturally on the lake as the car rounded the curve to the final stretch of dirt road before we reached the township of Elishire. I appreciated the ride–I knew I would have gotten lost in these twisting country backroads. I already longed for the lights and traffic and pavement of my city.

My name is Mary Ingstaff. I am a marriage consultant. I am here to assist with the marriage of Michelle Springs to Ezekiel Banks. I repeated these sentences like a mantra in an attempt to calm my nerves and stave off homesickness. I normally loved traveling for work, but leaving my own new wife at home put a strain on this trip.

If this job works out, Renee and I will be set for a while, I reassured myself, no more out-of-town gigs, no more flights, no more weird little towns. I looked over at my partner, Jake Stevens, who was somehow dozing with his head resting against the cold window. Aside from his many other talents, he was able to sleep anywhere. I’d always envied this ability.

We’d taken this job because of the pay–the entire township was chipping in for this wedding because of…reasons. Ezekiel Banks basically owned this place, so the townspeople had no choice but to contribute. The recent disappearance of his first wife, Constance–whom he’d supposedly divorced before her extremely convenient exit–had put extra pressure on the town to make this wedding special.

Banks’ very young wife, Michelle Springs, was barely out of high school. Poor Michelle, I thought, there must be rumors. There were always rumors in these small towns...

Horror

Monsters of Elishire

Nothing is as it appears.