Time is a liar. It tries to convince us we are a number. A year count. The years we left behind, and the ones still left to live. I don’t believe the number written in my passport. The soul has no age.
This week a dear friend visited me. A rare occasion, she lives abroad now. I’ve known her since the first day of school. Though we meet rarely, every time is magic. Our friendship defies the time passing, because when we meet it feels like no time has passed at all. Our souls had not grown older. Wiser maybe, but not older. In the eyes of our friends and loved ones we’re forever young.
A bit of flash fiction and poetry…
The crown
When will the spring come? When will it arrive with clouds of blooming white apple tree blossoms? I am waiting in the rain and the snow, my eyes closed to the wet cool kisses of the icy drops. I am waiting for the spring to put a majestic crown of golden dandelions on my tired head.
Forever-winter
Not to be loved
By the one
Lying near.
Not to be touched
For a day and a year.
You never hear
My pain.
I’m tired, my dear.
You’ve cursed me
To live in
forever-winter.
Our touches,
Tired and weary,
Feed the hunger.
Nothing more,
No depth under
The sheets.
Our souls never meet.
Shadow
The dark side of the dream is a shadow of self-doubt, lying heavy on the dreamer’s chest. Creeping upon him even on a day filled with sunny hope, the shadow steals the dreamer’s warmest smiles. Self-doubt is the thief of all hopes, the shadow of a dream.
Unrest
Something stirrs within your chest,
The unrest, the urge that
Moves a warrior to raise
His sword. Go West.
No sleep, no rest.
Until the quest
Is done.
The blanket
Cover me!
Keep me warm
From the eerie,
Cold whispers
Of self-doubt.
The hateful
Tongues of flame
Gather in a crowd.
Beat them down!
Put them out!
Be my blanket.
Hide me
In your arms
Of dark yarn.
Your touch of
Soft and warm
Will keep me
Safe from harm.
The forest
The forest breathes. Its green, moss-covered dragon’s chest raises and falls to the rhythm of the trees swaying in the wind. Its pinewood eyes cry amber tears in the summer heat. It carries the snow on its dark, fir branch wings. The gentle beast.
***
I want to sleep.
I want to dream up
A story made of clouds,
No ground could bound
Its airy lines.
It shines on my finger tips,
The words lay silent
On my lips.
The dream-cradled
Fairytale,
Will forever stay
Locked in the grey
Embrace of sleep.
It’s his to keep.
When I wake,
The dream will fade.
The best stories
Our minds create
When we sleep.
Eyes shut.
Midnight-deep.
Why micro-news? Because there’s nothing much to say. If all goes well:
On Monday, March 25, I’ll share Chapter 4 of Cirque du Macabre (book 2). All the Chapters of book 1 and 2 are free to read on my Substack (I’m sorry for the chaos there, I didn’t find the time to sort it out).
On Wednesday, March 27 I’ll start sharing a new epic fantasy with a heavy romantic subplot The Heiress of the Lake. Although it’s the book 2 of my Lake Trilogy, it can be read as a stand-alone.
Thursdays, as usual are the days of love and romance on Substack. I’ll share a compilation of works by other Substack authors. Also, I’ll be sharing the rest of the Sci-fi romance short story The Expedition.
I still won’t be sharing my dark fantasy The Last Daughter of Dragons this Saturday, but I’m planning to do it a week later, on April 6.
Thank you for reading! I hope that my stories are entertaining. Writing is an adventure, and I hope I can take you on a beautiful adventure with me!
Love,
Kathrine 🩶