The speakeasy roared with jazz; the blasting of brass instruments filled the ears of the people on the dance floor. And for Charlotte, they filled the hole in her soul as well. She was out for a night of drinking with her boyfriend, John, and she was ready to, once again, forget her troubles. Yes, the flapper was ready to let the music and the spirits and the cocaine numb her.
And afterward, during the early hours of the morning, when the party had finally died down, her and John would polish the night off with some wild sex. This might simply mean a night of rope play—or, if Charlotte and John were lucky, it might mean bringing another girl home with them—or, if they were really lucky, another couple girls. The most they had ever managed was two, but both Charlotte and John wanted to try for three. They wanted to test the limit, see how many ladies they could pick up at once. (Much to Charlotte’s dismay however, John was completely opposed to the notion of bringing home another man.)
John, who had gone off to fetch their drinks, returned. He passed Charlotte a gin on the rocks, her favourite. As for himself, he was drinking a Bee’s Knees—a very popular gin beverage, one with lemon, and of course, honey, hence the name. Charlotte, however, preferred her gin straight.
Continue reading “The Haunting of the Flapper”
Buttercup, a low-elf twelve Solar cycles of age, was sitting in the bay window of her family’s tree-house, reading a book of low-elven folklore, when the first snowfall of the Solar Cycle began covering the Greenlands.
She had first felt a chill—although this did not bother her, seeing as she was a low-elf. Then her long, pointy ears had noticed how peculiarly quiet it was, even with her three adoptive brothers—Alder, Pine and Chestnut—playing up in the loft of their tree-house.
Yes, Buttercup had sensed the winds changing, so she paused her reading to gaze out the large bay window and was startled to see snowflakes. They were almost like falling Stars, their whiteness contrasting with the deep blue twilight.
“Cosmos,” she breathed, not believing it. “Snow? This early?”
Continue reading “The Golden Candle”
“Greetings, folk of the Solar Kingdom. Today we gather for the trial of Misses Titania Brown, a mundane—or so she was sentenced to be!”
As Sola made his little speech, Titania shut her eyes tightly. She had never exactly been one for Divination or Metaphysical Magic, but she had to communicate with the Cosmos, beg the divine to just let her die.
“Yes, she was sentenced to a mundane life,” Sola continued, “as she was not deemed royal by the Cosmos, nor was she deemed noble. She is a giantess after all…”
At this, the Solar folk jeered:
“A tainted folkian breed, indeed! Just filthy!”
“The giant race is too stupid to work with the Craft!”
Continue reading “The Trial of Titania Brown”