Toasty Squeaks passed away. It was the runt of the litter and last kitten born. The other kitten, Apollo isn’t nursing enough so now gettimg supplement fed. Toasty also wasn’t feeding enough, we fed him last night by bottle. He was found in a corner away from mom, cold this morning. I only got 2 hours sleep, nursing kitties feed every 2 hours. I am very sad.
I see you in ever dream, my thoughts always of you. I love you and wish only your utmost happiness. I delight in the softness of your emery black waves; they frame your small round face with delicate curls. The way your lips, ruby painted, frown in disdain at me, or laugh when I tell a story. The confused look your cinnamon brown eyes get when I say the wrong things.
Lately those eyes are drowned in despairs, your slim shoulders have heaved in my arms. You leaned against me weeping and I stroked your hair in comfort. I have clasped your slim hands, perfectly manicured with delicate nails, in my own rough hands and assured you of my devotions.
Yet, how can I save you from your pain, how can I find you? I cannot even save myself. Last night I dreamt once more. Folding laundry on the line, you wore a simple cotton dress, light blue. Your hair pinned up, I watched from the window. Your mother, hair streaked with silver, helped place clothes out, I could hear the bubble of conversation but not the words.
Aniya, nay Anika Sora, Lady of dreams, I would plead you stay with me. Always at my side. That the moments I dream of a normal life, you and I, sitting on the bed chatting. The tv in the living area playing local news. The conversations, talking of the children, enjoying a happy life. The illusion always shattered when you realise I must go again. The tears as I tell you I am leaving, waking from the dream. Last night it happened too. I knew I had to go and held you tight, kissed you, and said goodbye. I will go mad, one day I may wish to remain in dream forever, never to wake again.
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By Damien Knight
I will preface this by stating that this was a dream I had. It is obviously a warped version of the Doctor Who episode “The Girl in the Fire Place.” During the dream it took me a bit to realise this.
Koraki stood at the top of the stairs of a Victorian ballroom. The ballroom walls were lined with mirrors where he felt certain Victorian art ought to be. He, himself, was dressed in a fine suit with a tie.
“It was a vast burning field
where no flowers grew
blood covered the embers
where no bodies were strewn
Who could do this to a land
that committed no crime
a place that had peace
In a time before time”
the devastation Arajuan
caused through out
That morning Anika awoke as the sun peeked into her tent. With the darkness gone the sun beamed the brightest she had ever seen. Only a slight trace of sulfur was on the wind much to her relief. She sat up, her stomach had a dull ache, but her legs healed except for scars on the back of them. Her shoulder where Arajuan gripped her had no wound at all. She had fallen asleep in her travel armor, so she did not need to dress. She left her tent, found Tarnink was already up and had prepared a fire.
Tarnink pulled out a pack of food and handed it to her. She tried to eat but her stomach felt numb. The food just sat and rotted. She tossed the food away from her in frustration.
“Arajuan, that vile beast, he is trying to starve me to death,” she exclaimed.
I love when things are complicated.”
Koraki to Anika
Arajuan did not have the luxury to stop. A tight schedule meant he had to push on. He could still smell her blood on him, feel her heartbeat against him. His own heart pounded against his ribcage. He knew this feeling, a roar in his chest from a time before he was Arajuan. She was the lady of shadows; how could he do this to her?
Arajuan had to shake this off, aloof, wicked, heartless. This is war, the price of war is death. He would laugh but it was not funny. The men followed him, orcs were the core group, from the same tribe Tsuke and Tuk hailed. The others were victims of towns he decimated. He relished in their fear when new towns he conquered saw his necromantic arts. It was a delight when they knew they bound their fate to him.
The war drums played as they marched. Socrates landed on his shoulder. He knew his master better than anyone; they were bonded as brothers. Socrates sensed Arajuan’s troubled heart.
“The girl, was she the wyrmling?” Socrates asked
“How many fear the dark only
to find there is little to fear”
-The Bird-Child Socrates
As the shadowy mist faded away, a foreboding man with charred brittle skin appeared. In the cracks, there glowed what appeared to be red-hot lava. His eyes were embers as he glared at them. Anika regained her bearings, Tarnink behind her, sword drawn. A small troop of twisted men circled them.
Anika found herself faced with this monstrosity. His eyes glowed so hot that his stare burned into her. He was blind, yet Anika felt he could sense her that he was looking at her.
The scar he had on his left eye glowed the brightest red and cut deeper than the other cracks of his flesh. Strapped to his right side he carried a sword, and in his right hand a long spear. His long feathery black hair blended in with the darkness of the forest. He wore a battered