#FlashMobWrites 1×12 : Breathe You In My Dreams

Merlin flexed his wings as he soared through the black sky, a black dragon on a black sky. He knew he was nearly invisible. Beneath him was the Kingdom of the Fairies, ruled by Queen Eyela, and King Stephan.

The kingdom was under siege, surrounded by Angels. Angels bent on destroying wild magic. Bent on destroying the fairies, and their magic, the dragons, and their magic. Bent on ridding the world of magic. Magic that brought wars, and death.

The fairies, though skilled fliers, and well-trained warriors, were no physical match for the Angels. The Angels were faster and stronger. They could fly higher, turn tighter. Angels were masters of the skies. And masters of war.

Merlin knew something the Angels didn’t. The magic didn’t exist. It was technology, a gift from the children of the human race. The intelligent machines.

Merlin was a dragon. Genetically, he was a modified human, created by the machines. He could use the machines, they did his bidding. On his world, the world named Cylinders, the machines were everywhere. In the air, the dirt, the water, the food. They flowed in his blood.

He waited for the darkest part of night. When the moon sank beneath the horizon, and only the stars were left. When that time came, he would deal with the Angels.

“Are you ready, machines?”

“We have always been ready.”

He almost laughed. “I breathe you in. I breathe you out. I imagine what I want. And you give it to me.”

“You know how the technology works. You know how we work.

“And yet, you do nothing to stop the Angels.” Merlin knew the machines would not interfere. They would only act when he, and others with magic wished them to act. They would on do what those with magic wished them to do.

And the magic wasn’t really magic. It was communication with the machines. The ability to talk directly to them, in their language. “You know what I will do when the time comes.”

“Yes.”

When it was time, Merlin tucked his wings close to his body. He plunged from the sky, sword like claws fully extended. He sliced into the Angels outside the kingdom’s walls. He placed himself between the angels and the walls, then called on the machines. He hovered in the air. As he pushed his wings forward, toward the angels, the machines did as he asked. His wings spawned the wind. The wind grew into a storm. It howled. It blew everything in its path away.

The Angels were helpless before the storm, blown to the ground, blown into the trees, into the sky. Their wings broken, shattered, useless in the wind.

Merlin settled to the ground. He screamed, the wound of metal sheets being torn in half. He knew Mystica heard. He knew, soon the war with the Angels would be over. And he wondered if any of the Angels would survive.

490 Words
@LurchMunster


This is my entry into #FlashMobWrites 1×12, hosted by Ruth Long and Cara Michaels. Please, go read all the stories in for #FlashMobWrites 1×12. You might find something you like. But if you don’t try, how will you ever know?

The Sky Was Torn Apart

“There is someone who will care for you.” The black dragon easily carried her through the alleyways of the kingdom, to a small building. “He lives within.” The dragon used a claw to slice through the locks on the door, then carried her inside.

A man came charging out of the back, carrying a sword. He was big. A warrior. With an air, a presence, that took Ivy’s breath. When the man saw the black dragon, he dropped his sword, and fell to his knees.

“Stephan. Former Captain of the Royal Guard of Princess Eyela. This child needs your protection, and care.”

“Who are you?”

The dragon made no sound.

Ivy saw terror in the man’s eyes. “Merlin?”

The black dragon handed her to Stephan. “Take care of her. I’ll be watching over both of you.” Then, it stepped outside into the darkness, and vanished.

The last thing Ivy heard that night was the sky being torn apart.


This is a little clip from something I’m working on. A project of mine, I’ve named “The White Witch”.

#FinishThatThought 40 : A War Begins

Merlin stood in the cave entrance, unable to believe what he saw. Angels soared above the trees, up the mountainside, toward his home. He did not want to fight them, but they were leaving him no choice.

The Angels had taken up arms, hunting and killing fairies and dragons gifted with magic. They’d destroyed entire villages and towns to rid the world of magic.

Merlin was the Black Magic Dragon, The dragon of legend that nearly destroyed the fairies. The ancient dragon, from the Northern Ice. He’d known the Angels would come for him someday, but their audacity surprised him. He walked into the clearing outside his cave. “If they want a war, then they shall have one.”

Merlin screamed, filling the sky with the sound of sheets of metal being torn apart. He flexed his wings, and took to the sky, leaving his cave behind. Upon spotting him, the Angels left the mountain, heading into the sky, chasing him, exactly as he knew they would.

Merlin’s black magic was useless against the Angels, they were immune to it. But they were not immune to his talons and his teeth. He changed direction, racing toward the sun. The Angels followed. Merlin accelerated. He possessed speed the Angels could not match. He could have easily escaped them. But they would find him again. They’d given him no choice but to stop them.

He plunged toward the ground, directly at the Angels, with talons fully extended and teeth barred. He sliced through the Angels, his talons stronger than the finest steel, sharp enough to slice through rock, cleaving Angels in half. Dead Angels rained from the sky.

Merlin screamed, the sound of metal rent asunder echoed through the sky.

Thus began the war between the Dragons and the Angels.

296 Words
@LurchMunster


I wrote this for Week 40 of Alissa Leonard‘s Finish That Thought. Please, go read all the creatively shared stories in this week’s challenge.

NaNoWriMo 2012 – Week 3 Clip.

[This is the 3rd clip from my NaNoWriMo work in progress, in all its unedited, rough draft glory.]

Merlin closed his eyes for a moment. 60,000 invading troops. 60,000. Easily more than the fairies of the Southern Plains. More than all the villages of the Northern Forest put together. 60,000 invading troops.

It was his first true understanding of the danger the invaders posed to Cylinders. To his home.

Merlin became angry.

Black fire coursed through his blood. Smoke curled from his nostrils. His eyes ignited with red fire. He became visible. And he didn’t care. He would show the invaders what they were up against. Show them Cylinders was not a world that would roll over and play dead.

Merlin roared.

He watched the ship land. A tower of silver, black and gray in the center of the plateau. It was scorching hot. Merlin saw the waves of heat coming off it. He didn’t wait. He didn’t call for help. He didn’t inform anyone it had landed. Instead, he flew from where he was hidden, down to the plateau. He approached that troop ship. As he did, some of the protrusions on it turned, pointing at him.

Merlin stopped his flight. Looked at the ship. Knew its weapons were pointed at him. “Good. That’s what I want.” He spread his wings, looked to the ship, and roared. His roar was the sound of metal being crushed beneath tons of rock.

He spoke to the machines. Calling his black magic as he hadn’t in centuries.

He held his place in the sky. His wings whipping back and forth, always forward, toward that ship, and back away from it. Each time his wings whipped forward, streaks of black appeared. Like black spears. They raced through the sky, toward the ship. Hundreds of them. Carried by a linear wind that blew harder than Merlin had ever caused before. The wind reaching 200 miles per hour. The black spears raced toward the ship.

The ship’s energy shield shimmered. The first spears reached it. They were deflected. But the next spears weren’t. They passed through the energy field, as if it wasn’t there. Hundreds of black spears aimed right at that ship.

Driven by the will of Merlin. The black magic dragon. The deadliest, most powerful dragon of them all. The machines doing what he asked them to.

The spears collided with the ship. Slicing into it. Gashes appeared on its side. Other spears penetrating those gashes. Things inside the ship exploded. Merlin saw humans falling before the spears. He saw them thrown out of the ship by the explosions.

He held his place in the sky before the ship.

He roared.

Then he spoke.

“This is Cylinders. This is our home. You will not take it from us. Leave. Now. While you still can.”

With that, Merlin turned, and flew over the mountains surrounding the plateau. As he did, he screamed. His scream ripped the silence of the dawn. It echoed for miles. And he heard the screams of other dragons. The message was sent. The word was given.

The invaders had arrived.

The war had begun.

Fairies : Half-Breed

She just walked into the clearing by the lake one day. No one saw her coming. No one knew who she was. She had no name. She looked fully grown. And somehow, she looked like a little girl. With that little girl innocence. She had raven red hair, and the bluest eyes you could imagine.She was a fairy. At least she looked like a fairy. But there was something about her that wasn’t fairy like. There was a grace, an elegance that not even Rose had. Her wings were blue. And feathered, like the wings of an angel. But they were shaped just like fairy wings.

And, whoever she was, she was completely naked.

She walked across the clearing, to the edge of the lake, and knelt. She looked into the water, and she smiled. Then she began to cry. Quietly. With the same grace, and elegance everyone could see when she walked.

At first, no one knew what to do. Or even what to say. Rose, Dream, Flora, Fauna, Chrissy, Lilly and Sunshine stayed at the edge of the clearing, and watched. Musica, the eldest of the girls, took out her flute, and began to play. A quiet little tune that reminded every one of the sound of water in a mountain stream as it flowed across the rocks and boulders in its way. As she played, she walked from the edge of the forest, to the lake, until she was standing next to the stranger.

Musica just kept playing.

Sunshine walked out of the forest, and she too approached the lake. As she did, the sun itself seemed to shine down on the stranger as she cried. As if it was trying to comfort her. Calm her. Keep her safe, and warm.

Rose followed their lead. She flicked her wings, and floated just above the ground, across the clearing. She stopped when she reached the stranger, and while hovering there, gently placed a hand on the stranger’s shoulder. Then Rose used her wings, as only she could. She danced. In the sky. Just above the lake. Every now and then, letting a wingtip trace a pattern in the lake’s surface. Every movement she made matching the tune Musica played.

Sunshine placed an arm around the stranger’s shoulders, and she spoke. “I’m Sunshine. These are my sisters, Musica and Rose. We live here at the lake.” At least the tears no longer fell from the stranger’s eyes. “May I ask your name?”

“I haven’t got a name.”

Everyone knew that could only mean one thing. The stranger was special in some way. Like each of them. Unique. Different. And misunderstood. Abandoned by her parents. Her family. Each of the fairies remembered the pain they’d felt in their hearts and souls. Each of them remembered their own stories.

Sunshine stood, offering a hand to the stranger. “You are always welcome here,” she smiled. Then she looked at Musica, the tallest of the fairies, “Perhaps Musica can find you something to wear?”

And so the day began. The fairies found clothing for the stranger in their midst. It was too small, of course. After all, she was full-grown. The clothing barely covered her breasts. And the skirt wasn’t really a skirt at all. It was a bed sheet, tied around her waist. Both were blue and white. They couldn’t find any sandals that were large enough to fit her feet, so she went barefoot.

The fairies fed her berries, cheese, and jerky. Taking care of her. Making sure she had plenty to eat, and plenty to drink. The stranger smiled. And somehow, when she did, everything seemed alright.

The stranger was indeed full-grown. Her wings were fully developed, and she could fly. Not as well as Rose, of course, but the stranger could fly very well indeed. She couldn’t hover though. Not many fairies could. Rose was one of the few blessed with that much flying skill. But the stranger could ride the air currents. The fairies, even Rose, couldn’t help but notice the grace and elegance of every movement she made through the sky.

Everyone laughed. And had a wonderful time. They even went swimming in the lake. That night Musica let the stranger stay in her home, and Musica stayed with Sunshine.

The next morning, Mystica returned. She watched from her home on the far side of the lake as the fairies all woke up. You can imagine her surprise when the first fairy she saw wasn’t a fairy at all, but the stranger as she came out of Musica’s house. Mystica sensed no danger at all. The white magic indicated everything was safe. So, she stood on her front porch, and watched.

The stranger walked across the clearing, to the edge of the lake. There, she stripped everything off, and walked into the water, where she quietly bathed. Mystica noticed the elegance, and the grace in every move the stranger made.

Merlin, the black magic dragon, came out of the shadows, as he always did. Appearing out of nowhere. “Do you know what she is?” he asked of Mystica.

“I’ve never seen anyone like her? Is she a fairy?”

Merlin sighed. “Only in part. Only in part.” Merlin watched the stranger as she bathed. “She is very rare, White Witch. Very rare indeed.”

“In what way?”

“Let the white magic tell you. It will, if you ask.”

Mystica closed her eyes, and wished, “Who is this stranger in our midst?” The surface of the water of the lake began to change. It showed two pictures. One of a female angel. A real angel. The kind with feathered wings. The other of a fairy warrior. Mystica watched as the images told the story of the angel’s fall from the sky. Of the warrior finding her. Mending her wounds. Treating the broken bones in her wings.

It was the story of a forbidden love. Love between an angel and a fairy. The angel never returned to the sky above. The fairy abandoned everything he was. The two of them finding a home of their own in the ice and snow to the north. Where the elves lived. And with time, the angel bore a child. A daughter. Half angle. Half fairy.

Mystica realized the daughter of that angel and her fairy love was the stranger bathing in the lake.

Calling forth her white magic, Mystica floated across the water, hanging in the air next to the stranger. She smiled, and asked, “Do you have a name, dear one?”

The stranger smiled at Mystica, “I do not.”

“Why have you come here?” Mystica found her self asking. Knowing angels only appear when they need to.

“I am meant to be here,” said the stranger. “At this lake. With the fairy girls. And their Mother. Msystica.” She looked at Mystica. “My heart tells me this.”

Mystica smiled. “Then you are always welcome here, dear one.”

That morning, Mystica took the stranger into her home, finding clothing for her. It wasn’t much, and was very revealing. But it just felt right. As if the stranger were meant to be naked, not clothed.

From that day forward, the stranger lived with the fairies at the lake. Adopting Mystica as her mother. No one ever learned how old the stranger was. Or where she’d come from. She remembered nothing. Not even her name.

It was the first time the stranger went with Mystica to one of the villages to get supplies that the stranger got a name. When a male shop keeper saw her enter his shop with Mystica, looking for some cloth, and sandals, the male shop keeper could not help himself, and asked out loud, “Can I help you, Miss Hooters?”

Mystica had blushed. But the stranger hadn’t. She’d just smiled. “I like that.” She’d looked at Mystica, “I now have a name.”

And from that day to this her name as always been Miss Hooters. And no one save the fairies of her family, and the dragons, Merlin and Scream, know that she’s a half-breed. Half angle, and half fairy.

And no one at all, not even Miss Hooters herself, knew what her wild magic powers were.

A Clip From Chapter 28 Of JuNoWriMo 2012

Then Merlin came out of the trees. One moment he was not there. The next moment he was. It surprised the girls. Both Musica and Sunshine jumped, and let out little squeals of surprise. “Merlin! Where did you come from?”

Merlin laughed. It sounded like metal plates bouncing off of a stone floor. “I have been watching from the trees.”

Mystica had to laugh herself. “Merlin is invisible in shadow.”

Merlin cut in, “Except to you, of course. You’ve learned how to find me.”

“Just because I can feel your black magic. And that tells me where you are.” She looked at her daughters. “But you can’t feel his magic, so you can’t tell where he is.” She looked at Merlin, “But that’s why you’re here, isn’t it? To play hide and seek. So they girls can start tl learn how to find you?”

“Yes.”

The girls spent hours playing hide-and-seek with Merlin. He would hide in the shadows, and they would try to find him. Then, they would hide in the shadows, and he would find them. Merlin took his time finding the girls. He knew exactly where they were. Mystica knew that. She knew where they were too. Even without watching them. She knew Merlin could see them in the shadows. He could hear them breathing. He could smell them.

She knew that Sunshine and Musica could not find Merlin. Unless he let them. They couldn’t see him. They couldn’t hear him. And she watched as they walked right past him many times. Merlin had fun hiding for a while, and then he started leaving clues for them to find that would guide them to him.

With each round of the game, Merlin made it more difficult for them to find him.

Eventually, Sunshine and Musica grew tired of playing. And the sun was getting low. Mystica helped the girls bathe in the lake. Neither of them knew how to swim. So Mystica had to keep them in shallow water.

After they were clean, they went to their houses for the night, and went to bed.

But before they went to sleep, Musica took her flute, and she played. It was a beautiful song. Merlin had come out to listen. He’d curled up like some big kitten on the ground next to Mystica. And listened. “She has musical talent that is beyond someone her age. That’s part of her gift of wild magic. That she can play like she does.”

Sunshine fell asleep that night, listening to beautiful flute music. That night, she had wonderful dreams. Of playing with Musica. Singing songs. Chasing butterflies. All of it things she never thought she’d do. But now. All of her dreams were coming true.

And she loved Musica. Her sister. She’d always wanted a sister. Now she had one.

And she loved Mystica, her Mommy. She’s always wanted a mother that loved her. And took care of her. And could protect her. And help her learn all about who she was. And what she could do. And now she had one.

Sunshine slept very well that night.

Fairies : Sword (Part 1)

Mystica stood on a tree branch that hung over the lake. The surface of the lake was, as always, mirror smooth. It was several hours before the dawn. She had been awakened by a dream. She stood there. On that branch. Wrapped in her bed covers. Watching the surface of the lake. As images formed. Images of white. On a blue background. She spoke softly to the lake, “Show me the wounded boy.”

The images on the water took shape. Shifting. Swirling. Forming into a village. On the edge of body of water. The water was like nothing Mystica had ever seen. She could not see the other side of it. I wasn’t like any river, or any lake she knew of. And this water had waves. The surface was always changing. And the water made noise. Sounds. She had no idea where it was. Or what it could even be.

She continued to watch the images on the surface of the lake. As they played out a story right before her eyes. Taking her into the village. The houses there were arranged in a circle. In the center of the village there was a circular ring. The images continued, painting pictures, telling a story that left Mystica speechless.

The people of the village gathered around the circle. They were cheering. And laughing. And appeared to be having all kinds of fun. Musica watched as two very large men entered the ring. They both had braided whips. Whips with barbs on them. The kind of whips that tore skin apart if they struck that skin.

A third man entered the ring, and everyone had grown silent. Everyone had watched that one man as he spoke. Mystica sensed that he was some kind of leader. When he finished what he was saying, he turned to face the opposite side of the circle. Then he waved his arms, and two other men entered the ring. Between them was a small boy. A boy with wings. Like the wings of a butterfly. The boy was a fairy. Maybe 8 years old.

The crowd went wild. Making all kinds of noise. The two men holding the boy threw him across the ring. Straight at the two men with whips. The boy tried to gain control of his forward motion, so he could land standing. But as he did, the men with the whips struck. The whips tore into the boy. Tearing apart the skin on his arms, and legs. The boy screamed with pain. But the men with the whips continued striking him. Drawing blood from his chest. His back. His wings. His face.

They struck him many times. Mystica was so shocked she couldn’t even count. All she could do was stand there. Stunned. She had never seen anything like it. The brutality of it. Whipping a fairy boy like that. She stood there. Transfixed. Unable to look away.

When the whipping stopped, he fairy boy was prone upon the ground. Mystica had no way to know if he was alive or dead. The crowd around the circle cheered. Smiles were everywhere. The two men with the whips withdrew from the circle. The two men that had thrown the boy moved out of the circle. And the one man that was the leader, spoke once again. When he was through speaking, the crowd dispersed, and the man left the circle. Leaving the boy there. Alone.

Mystica watched the images again. And saw the boy try to move. Somehow, he was still alive.

Mystica screamed, “Merlin!” And her friend, the black magic dragon, Merlin appeared, as if he had been there the whole time. He spoke softly to Mystica.

“Scream is on his way. I can not carry you. You will need to use the White Magic to get there.”

“Where is there? I’ve never seen such a place?” As Mystica spoke, Merlin looked at the lake. And the images of the lake changed. The village shrank. Becoming a dot on the shore of a great body of water. A body that had no end. The land simply ended, and the water began. As the image changed, the Eastern edge of the Northern Forest came into view.

Merlin spoke once more, to Mystica, “Go.”

Mystica took flight. The white magic lifting her above the lake. Above the forest. And then, the magic gave her the speed that only Mystica, the White Witch, could achieve. She headed East. Streaking through the sky, above the trees. A brilliant white streak of light across the pre-dawn sky.

The sun rose. Then it set  before she reached the end of her journey. She hoped the boy was still there. Still alive.

As she approached the village, she heard Scream, the mighty dragon, as he screamed. He had arrived before her. She had known he likely would. The speed of the dragons had always been the stuff of legend. And Scream was second only to Merlin in the order of the dragons.

As the village came into sight, she saw the circle of homes. And then the circle in the center of the village. And in that circle stood Scream. He was there. Protecting the boy. There were several dead men outside the circle. They had been foolish, and attacked Scream. No human did that and lived. Mystica was saddened to see the dead. But she more than welcomed the fact that Scream had not destroyed the village. For that meant he was indeed changing. Trying not to kill. Unless he felt he had no choice.

She understood that he hadn’t wished to kill the humans. That he’d merely been defending himself, and the fairy boy. But his speed, and strength were such that without intending to, he had killed the attacking men.

Mystica floated down to stand next to Scream. Scream had screamed. A scream that could be heard for miles. That shook the homes in the village. And absolutely terrified all the villagers. When his scream was done, he had looked at Mystica, and then at the boy.

Mystica walked up to the fairy boy. She hoped he was still alive. She placed a hand on his back, feeling his back move raggedly up and down. As he breathed. He was still alive. But he was dying. And if Mystica did not act, the boy would die. And he would die very soon.

She knelt beside the boy. And put one hand on his broken, bleeding face. And one on his back. And she spoke. “Heal.” And the white magic responded. Knitting together broken bones the whips had fractured. Restoring veins, and flesh. Healing every physical wound the boy had endured.

Mystica was not done. Not by any means. She placed the boy’s head on her lap, and closed her eyes. “Free him from the pain.” Again, the white magic responded. And the little fairy boy was encased in a white glow. Mystica knew what the White Magic would do. As it encased the boy, it sank into him. Past skin. Past flesh. Into his heart. Where it found the memory of the hurt the boy had endured. The agony, and terror, of having been whipped to near death, and then left, beneath the sun, to die. In misery. And pain.

As the pain the boy was in faded away, he relaxed. The fear and hurt in him fled. And the little boy fell fast asleep. Mystica picked him up. And walked up to Scream. She handed the little boy to Scream, who cradled him in his two front arms. “Please, Scream. Please take this one home. He is one of us now.”

With those words, Scream looked to the sky, and he screamed a second time. The homes in the village shook again. And the scream carried for miles. And then, Scream flexed his wings. And took to the sky. Heading to the West. With the speed of a dragon. He was soon gone.

Leaving Mystica in the circle, in the middle of the village. All alone.

The people came out of their homes. They were not happy. They held whips. And swords. And clubs. And they surrounded the circle. And their leader spoke. “Destroy the heathen one!”

Mystica looked at the leader. And she spoke one word. “Burn.”

And white fire erupted in that village on that day. It burned through every person that lived there. One villager after another collapsed to the ground. Screaming in agony, as the white magic burned the darkness out of them. Many of the villagers fell unconscious, getting merciful release from the flames that burned through them.

The two men that had use the whips collapsed to the ground. Their hands reduced to ashes. Their chests in flames, where their hearts had been.

All that was left of the leader was a small pile of ash, where he had once stood.

When the white magic flames had burned everyone, they faded away. Leaving Mystica standing in the middle of the circle. It was then she spoke. “I will be watching you from now on. And if you should once more strike down a child as you did that fairy boy, I will be back. And I will unleash the white flames on your village once again.”

And with those words, Mystica called the White Magic to lift her, and carry her to her home.