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The Watchers

With an unwavering dedication to the repetition of exacting ritual, the boy spent solitary his days.

The Winter season became him, and the struggle to preserve what Her many charms ...

Supplicant

Sinuous stalks that once whispered and shushed the clamor of hectic Summer days, green and vibrant, heavy with springy, conical bulbs eager to be picked, now hung in scabrous, lifeless h ...

Cutting a Path

But for the weight he carried straight armed, and shoulders slumped, his knuckles tight and pointing at his toes, the trip back home was easier than the trip into the woods. His buck ...

Harbinger

Runs of black birds perch in serried rows
along to tops of the forest.

Jutting points on a crown.

Serrated teeth arrayed.

Swathed in a high hanged mist.

Jet marbles set in s ...

The Forest

Christopher plodded through knee deep snow with dogged, if somewhat ungainly, tempo. Every fresh footfall giving way with reluctance as he methodically broke through the frozen skin coat ...

Absence

Where once his father's garden rippled with the passing breeze,
and sang soothing the calm rustles of whispery secrets
adrift and fleet in moments and movement,
now ended with the advent ...

She had called the Abyss by It's name
Green eyes lingering
Slim white fingers upon a heavy chain of silver
She had worn it in secret for years
Now his by her hand
The ankh a viscous red in the f ...

White
Wisps
Rise
Wary
Wildflowers
Rustle
Whispers
Wend
Round
Winding
Road
Woods
Song
Woven
Winged
Shorn
Bereft
She
Waits

Dreadful things whispered this hazy,grey air. Unspeakable, in that complete understanding was the space of breath out of reach.

Unspeakable, and yet not secret.

Christopher knew he did not belon ...

"We're Here." echoed in Christopher's head everytime he closed his eyes.

But he didn't need telling, he knew where they were. Every one of them. Every face.

Only no one ever paid his v ...

Sometimes.

Sometimes dreams were exactly the same for Christopher.

Sometimes he went back. Back to previous moments. Saw exactly the same things he wanted most to revisit.

His young mind unfe ...

The wind blew lazily, in gusts and short spurts, drawn with invisible purpose from the west. New scents and old upon its buoyant, airborne path.

The slow, but beautiful death of Summer.

Christo ...

Other children were a rarity for Christopher.

There were some at some of the camps he and his father had stopped by, but very often they were older.

And wilder.

It was at times like this, as ...

So many of the voices were sad.

So many lost.

In a world that Christopher recognized on a very real level to be larger than he could explain, so many seemed so all alone.

And at moments like ...

Christopher was very much accustomed to the comings, and leavings of many different people.

Some came to be with his father. He imagined he was well liked as far as that went. Arahim smiled and lau ...