Writing Group: Blooming in Moonlight

Good evening Horticulturalists, Night Creatures, and Lunatics!

I see you’ve come to the midnight garden to admire the night blooms. Not many people know about this place. Rumors and all. You know, it’s said that magic happens beneath iridescent light, because…

This week’s Writing Group prompt is:

Blooming in Moonlight

Make sure you scroll down and read them if you haven’t! You may not be eligible if you don’t!

This prompt conjures an image of ethereal, midnight beauty. The first thing it makes me think of is flowers. There are several real flowers that bloom in the moonlight (Angel’s Trumpets, Queen of the Nights, Casablanca Lilies…), as well as a vast plethora of mythical ones. You could write about scientists examining the flowers blooming at night, about your characters having a picnic in a meadow under the stars, or else a dark duel covered in petals.

We usually associate flowers with blooming, but when an aquatic, microscopic algae population swells so much that it changes the entire ecosystem, this is called algal bloom. These bloom events vary in color from green, to red, to brown and gold, to even purple, and are sometimes big enough to be seen from space! Algal blooms can be good (providing nutrients and food for other organisms) or harmful (producing toxins or damaging structures that kill aquatic life). If you want to do something really fun and/or wacky with this prompt, tell us the story of one of such blooms. You could write about a fish beneath it, a human population affected by it, or even personify it! Writing about someone from space seeing it could be a particularly interesting application of the moonlight aspect. 

The fun thing about this prompt, however, is that it’s not “flowers in moonlight” or “plants in moonlight.” It’s “blooming in moonlight.” It’s the verb—you get to decide what’s blooming. Blooming can apply to more than just plants. Looking up the definitions, it can apply to anything at its freshest and most beautiful. It can refer to a youthful glow about a person’s complexion. Perhaps you want to write about the young debutante coming down the stairs, bathed in moonlight, or else the vampire putting on the guise of a human complexion. 

Even music is said to bloom when it has a full bright sound. Perhaps you want to write about a composer seeing their dream fulfilled as they hear their composition bloom, or a teen sitting in their room enjoying their favorite song when they can’t sleep.

When I look up the definitions of bloom, one is “(of fire, color, or light) [to] become radiant and glowing” which I think is particularly beautiful. You could write about fireworks blooming over the water, of a painter mixing the perfect, radiant shade, or of bioluminescent creatures blooming beneath the waves under a moonlight of their own invention. 

You can push this prompt to greater limits than that. “Bloom” is a word that can be used poetically. Blood may “bloom” in the water, anger may “bloom” inside one’s chest, even scandalous desires might “bloom” at night. There are several things that happen in the moonlight that you could poetically describe as blooming. You could even describe something like a werewolf transformation like a flower blooming. The sky—or should I say moon?—is your limit. (But, if you go this route, just be sure to make the connection to the prompt clear.)

My challenge for you this week is one meant to help you improve your writing skills. I often talk on streams about using active verbs. (Example: Instead of saying “He held my arm tightly.” saying “He grabbed my arm.” Instead of saying “She was lonely.” saying “Loneliness crept in from the corners of the room.”) “Bloom” is one of my personal favorite active and poetic verbs, so I think this would be a great challenge for this prompt. 

Level one of my challenge is: do your best to use active verbs throughout your piece. This is the most lenient level of the challenge—just do your best when and where you can to use active verbs. 

The second level of my challenge is: don’t use any adverbs (besides ones like “yesterday” and “tomorrow,” those are fine). This is the next difficulty level—finding adverbs and completely removing them in the goal of using an active verb instead.

The third level is: don’t use am/is/are/was/were anywhere in your piece—always choose something more active. I know, to some, this may seem impossible (it certainly did to me when my English teacher once gave my class this challenge) but you’d be surprised how little you need those verbs, and how often those words can be replaced and improved by something more active. (Example: “I was hot.” vs “The heat clung to me.”)

(You can mix and match the levels to your preference!) 

Remember, these challenges aren’t mandatory! They are meant to be a fun bonus if you’d like to have a little extra challenge. But, if you don’t want to use them, please don’t feel obligated to!

My, how you’ve grown, seedlings! Now put those new petals to use and dazzle us.

—Felicia, Kaylie, and Pearce

Remember, this is part of our weekly Writing Group stream! Submit a little piece following the rules and guidelines below, and there’s a chance your entry will be read live on stream! In addition, we’ll discuss it for a minute and give you some feedback.

Tune into the stream this Saturday at 3:00pm CST to see if you made the cut!

The whole purpose of this is to show off the creativity of the community, while also helping each other to become better writers. Lean into that spirit! Get ready not just to share what you’ve got, but to give back to the other writers here as well.

Rules and Guidelines

We read at least five stories during each stream, two of which come from the public post, and three of which come from the much smaller private post. Submissions are randomly selected by a bot, but likes on your post will improve your chances of selection, so be sure to share your submission on social media!

  1. Text and Formatting

    1. English only.
    2. Prose only, no poetry or lyrics.
    3. Use proper spelling, grammar, and syntax.
    4. Your piece must be between 250-350 words (you can use this website to see your wordcount).
    5. Use two paragraph breaks between each paragraph so that they have a proper space between them (press “enter” or “return” twice).
    6. Include a submission title and an author name (doesn’t have to be your real name). Do not include any additional symbols or flourishes in this part of your submission. Format them exactly as you see in this example, or your submission may not be eligible: Example Submission.
    7. No additional text styling (such as italics or bold text). Do not use asterisks, hyphens, or any other symbol to indicate whether text should be bold, italic, or styled in any other way. CAPS are okay, though.
  2. What to Submit

    1. Keep submissions “safe-for-work”; be sparing with sexuality, violence, and profanity.
    2. Try to focus on making your submission a single meaningful moment rather than an entire story.
    3. Write something brand new; no re-submitting past entries or pieces written for other purposes
    4. No fan fiction whatsoever. Take inspiration from whatever you’d like, but be transformative and creative with it. By submitting, you also agree that your piece does not infringe on any existing copyrights or trademarks, and you have full license to use it.
    5. Submissions must be self-contained (everything essential to understanding the piece is contained within the context of the piece itself—no mandatory reading outside the piece required. e.g., if you want to write two different pieces in the same setting or larger narrative, you cannot rely on information from one piece to fill in for the other—they must both give that context independently).
  3. Submission Rules

    1. One submission per participant.
    2. Submit your entry in a comment on this post.
    3. Submissions close at 12:00pm CST each Friday.
    4. You must like and leave a review on two other submissions to be eligible. Your reviews must be at least 50 words long, and must be left directly on the submission you are reviewing, not on another comment. If you’re submitting to the private post, feel free to leave these reviews on either the private or the public post. The two submissions you like need not be the same as the submissions you review.
    5. Be constructive and uplifting. These submissions are not for a professional market, and shouldn’t be treated as such. We do this, first and foremost, for the joy of the craft. Help other writers to feel like their work is valuable, and be considerate and gentle with critique when you offer it. Authors who leave particularly abrasive or disheartening remarks on this post will be disqualified from selection for readings.
    6. Use the same e-mail for your posts, reviews, and likes, or you may be rendered ineligible (you may change your username or author name between posts without problem, however).
    7. You may submit to either or both the public/private groups if you have access, but if you decide to submit to both, only the private group submission will be eligible.
    8. Understand that by submitting here, you are giving us permission to read your submission aloud live on stream and upload public, archived recordings of said stream to our social media platforms. You will always be credited, but only by the author name you supply as per these rules. No other links or attributions are guaranteed.

Comments on this post that aren’t submissions will be deleted, except for replies/reviews left on existing submissions.

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2 months ago

A Second Goodbye
By MostlyMarco

Overhead, the light of the moon illuminates the hill in a haunting glow. The silence in the air is broken by the sounds of ancient chanting that reverberates throughout the cemetery. With each intonation, the ground quivers, a symphony of bone rattles and eerie whispers fill the air. Slowly, skeletal remains begin to stitch together. Ebony bones snap together as the necromancer raises his voice. Even after the skeleton fully forms, he continues his deathly chorus, willing the soul together.

Panting, Mortis inspects the skeleton in front of him. A glowing outline tells him he succeeded, and in a few minutes, consciousness would return to the body. Satisfied with his work, Mortis turned to collect his payment.

“The spell should hold until sunrise,” Mortis called out in a hoarse voice.

However, it seemed clear that his benefactor was in no position to respond. He simply stood behind dumbstruck, his mouth agape. Sometime during the ritual, he must have dropped the payment, judging by the gold on the ground. He made no response to Mortis, only staring at him with a mix of horror and amazement.
Sighing, Mortis stooped down to collect the fallen coins. Normally, he would’ve made a big show, using his magic to collect the coins. But now, he was far too tired to bother.

“Y-you actually–,”

“Indeed, I really brought her back. As per our agreement.” Mortis hefted the bag of coins punctually. “As such, you shouldn’t delay much longer lest the spell expire.”

Nodding quickly, the man scampered behind him to the stirring skeleton, continuously shooting nervous glances at Mortis. Letting out another sigh, Mortis began to trudge off, leaving the two alone.

Mortis watched the two lovers from far away. The scene seemed absurd to him. A human and a skeleton, embracing one another. Faintly, he could hear the melodies of conversation and laughter.

They shouldn’t be together, he mused. The natural course of life had torn them apart in death. But as he watched them, a small smile bloomed across his face. Maybe these unnatural, blasphemous powers could be used for more than destruction.

2 months ago

Moonlit Dreams

In the depths of a mystical forest, nestled beneath the radiant moon, there lay an enchanted garden. Bathed in silver moonlight, this ethereal sanctuary was a realm where dreams were born. The air was thick with wonder, and the flowers danced in a delicate rhythm, their petals imbued with magical energy.

Among these enchanted blooms, there existed a unique variety: the flowers of movement. Their vibrant colors shifted and swirled, as if guided by invisible hands. Each step within the garden brought forth a kaleidoscope of hues, painting the night with their ethereal beauty. Their dance mesmerized anyone fortunate enough to witness it.

At the heart of the garden, a crystal clear pool shimmered like liquid moonbeams. Its tranquil surface reflected the starry sky above, mirroring the dreams and hopes of those who dared to peer into its depths. The pool held a secret power—an ability to soothe troubled hearts and grant solace to weary souls.

As the night deepened, the garden revealed another marvel—enchanted creatures unseen in any realm. They emerged from the shadows, captivating with their otherworldly presence. There were glowing fireflies, their delicate wings flickering like miniature stars. Graceful unicorns, their silver horns aglow, moved with an elegance that defied imagination. Birds with feathers of iridescent hues sang melodies that touched the deepest recesses of the soul.

In this haven of moonlit dreams, time ceased to exist. The boundaries of reality blurred, and the line between the possible and the impossible became indistinguishable. Visitors to the garden discovered a profound connection with their innermost desires, as if the magic infused within the air breathed life into their aspirations.

Within the embrace of this enchanted garden, dreams took flight. Desires long suppressed found a voice, and the garden became a canvas on which hopes were painted in radiant strokes. It whispered secrets of untold wonders and whispered promises of a future beyond imagination.

And so, the moonlit garden remained a cherished memory, a beacon of inspiration that called to dreamers far and wide. Its flowers continued their eternal dance, the pool shimmered with infinite reflections, and the enchanted creatures reveled in their unseen beauty. For in this sacred place, dreams were born and destinies transformed under the watchful gaze of the ever-present moon.

Anton Kragh Paaskesen
Anton Kragh Paaskesen
2 months ago

The Hatching

Through a blanket of clouds, the moon shone forth. Refusing to be made invisible, its silver blades pierced the thick blanket with ease. Looking up through the dense foliage of leaf crowns, Caelin looked up in appreciation at her celestial friend. And in her heart of hearts, she thanked it for guiding her on this most important night. Not just for her but for what she was carrying.

“Shine on my friend” she prayed, as she made her way to the hatching ground, the clutch of eggs closely held to her chest for warmth “if not for me, then for the little ones”.

Seven eggs had she been entrusted with. For nine months she had watched over them and given them warmth. Now at last was the time for her to prove her worth as a Guardian. On this moonlit night, she would watch over them, as the small dragons within hatched.

The moonlight wavered. Worry gripped Caelins heart as the contours of the silver pillars in her path dimmed. The little ones would need the moon for guidance. Without it, they would be blinded by the dark of midnight. Through worrys fog, Caelin managed to find her courage and trudged on. She would have to be strong. She was a Guardian of dragons, the same as the rest of her bloodline. As such the little ones depended on her, for safe hatching. In her arms, she felt a sensation of force from the clutch of eggs. Lifes force. The little ones were growing impatient.

“Just a while more little ones” she whispered softly, with a slight quiver in her voice “Be patient, just for a little while more”. As she trudged on through the dimming moonlight, she wrapped the eggs tighter into her blanket and started humming the melody of her people. More for herself, than for the dragons.

When she arrived at the forest clearing of the hatching ground, the cover of clouds had grown thicker. Worriedly Caelin looked up after the moon. Though faint, its light was still thankfully visible through the dense blanket.

Caelin carefully laid out each egg on the hatching ground, taking slightly longer than needed. With each egg, she prayed for the clouds to clear if only a little.

Heart heavy with worry, she put the last egg down. She took a step back and observed them. Each minute was agony for her. The clouds did not seem to clear. And the eggs were getting closer and closer to hatching. “Be vigilant” she harshly scolded herself “your a Guardian”. And so she watched on.

At last, the clouds cleared. With renewed Hope, Caelin watched the hatching ground get bathed in a silvery glow. One egg started hatching. Then another. And another. And before Caelins eyes, seven serpentine forms spread their wings and took flight, their scaly bodies shimmering a silvery gleam.

Pipa Harana
Pipa Harana
2 months ago

2 AM at Tinoto Reef
By Pipa Harana

“Eman! Get the nets ready.”
“Do you have the flashlight?”

Slow waves pushed the wooden boat farther from the shore. In the middle of the ocean, on a Monday’s 2 AM, three silhouettes stood under the full moon’s light.

A stout muscly figure stomped and shook the boat, shaking the short bony one out of balance. The towering lanky one simply shushed them as it held a lit flashlight above the dark waters. “You shouldn’t make loud noises like that, Carmelita. It will scare the fish,” a soothing voice came.

The stout muscly silhouette sighed. “Sorry, Ningning. But this one,” its voice cresendoed. “Just won’t follow simple instruct—.”

Both the short bony silhouette and Ningning shushed Carmelita, who retreated.

For the next half hour, silence spread across Tinoto Reef. Silence clung onto Sarangani dawns just like how tarsiers clung onto trees but eventually, this shatters. By gentle noises like a fish leaping out of the water.


The short bony figure scrambled to life. “I’m awake, I’m awake!”

Carmelita rolled her big eyes and handed Eman the nets. “Just throw it over and reel it in when they come.”

“Got it.”

“I see some! I see some!” Ningning squealed.

The three gathered around the spot Ningning shined her flashlight on. Bubbles popped over and over and shimmers of teal and black glinted before their eyes. Carmelita sighed. Ningning smiled.

And Eman remembered why he insisted to come with his cousins even though Carmelita scolded him and he would fall asleep half way: to catch the moments of the Sarangani ecosystem blooming in moonlight.

2 months ago

The Taste of Spring is Sweet
By Vin

The moon watches from her starry throne and knows that tonight is the night Spring dies.

Or, perhaps more aptly, this is the night Spring changes her form into warm breeze Summer: the season of sweetened purple plums and sticky nectarine. It is a curse to be incarnate Spring—the eternal change of the seasons, the transience of it all. The moon has watched changing seasons take their mantle with care, each giving special attention to certain aspects of their nature. One Spring had given extra crops to farmers, yielding bountiful produce and heaping sprawling feasts upon tables. Another Summer had created monsoons, in a fit of destructive creativity, to tear down civilizations.

Most of the seasons take their change with grace. But this Spring is different. Now, with Summer approaching to take her throne in this seasonal succession, the heady spring winds refuse to warm, the colorful blossoms stubbornly cling to the branches and the flowers remain young and fresh and blooming. The moon has watched over many transformations and never has it seen one so reluctant and dragged out. This particular Spring has focused on all things beautiful as if leaving behind its love of beauty was its way of claiming permanence in this cycle of ephemerality.

Tonight, a bloom of evening primrose flaunts its vibrant yellow, glowing in the moon’s silver rays. The moon wades across the ocean of stars in the evening sky and watches the slow, reluctant acceptance of spring giving up her mantle. As the cool spring wind begins to transform into the gritty warmth of summer, a small evening primrose peeks its head through the earth: the last bloom of spring. In a moment of celestial sympathy, the moon sheds her light on it, causing the flower to glow and enhancing its beauty with her silver light. Finally, Spring slips into Summer with a contented sigh, her last creation having captured the moon’s attention so ardently.

In the morning, the evening primroses fold themselves up and wait for the moon, the memory of Spring merely a fading taste of sweetness for the closing buds.

2 months ago

Carnival Fantastique
By MasaCur

The truck convoy pulled up to the county fairground, trailers filled with roars and brays of dozens of creatures, mundane and fantastic. Above the trucks, the night sky’s stars were blotted out by the street lights of the town and the glowing full moon.

A rotund man in a dusty, beat up pointed hat climbed from the passenger door of the lead truck’s cab. He barked orders, pointing in various directions as he did so.

A couple of rock trolls, their grey skin craggy and pockmarked, pulled a giant tent pole from one of the trailers, thick as a ship’s mast. They carried it to a spot several yards from the convoy, and then dug a post hole in the ground with their bare hands. When the hole was dug, they erected the pole, planting it in the hole.

A masked woman in flowing silk robes pulled out a flute. As she played, panels and posts of carnival booths danced their way into place, setting themselves up as well as any craftsman ever could. A gang of gnomes rushed from one booth to the next, securing the panels and posts together to keep the booths upright for when the magic flute would eventually fall silent.

A lithe dryad walked a perimeter near the trucks, trees sprouting in her wake. The trunks and branches spread out, reaching out to one another. The branches intertwined, a cage assembling from the individual nascent trees.

As the cage formed, an ifreet cracked his fiery whip. When he did so, a chimera leapt toward one of the cells, its three heads bleating, roaring, and hissing at the blazing animal tamer.

Throughout the night, the carnival took form, a striped big top tent commanding over it. As the twilight of dawn started to wake on the horizon, the strange company of creatures and people sought to find a place to catch a few hours of sleep before they were ready to open the festivities to the nearby locals.

The circus had come to town.

2 months ago

(please delete, i made a mistake)

Last edited 2 months ago by Danny
Chaz Jazzman
Chaz Jazzman
2 months ago

why is it spam, i fixed my grammar

Chaz Jazzman
Chaz Jazzman
2 months ago

Don’t Let the Pollinators Become Extinct
By Chaz Jazzman

Tim and I sit in the tree right by the park, the bark is rough on my legs and I can tell Tim is getting tired of waiting. I check my watch, 11:58. “Just two more minutes,” I tell Tim

“They better hurry up, because my mom doesnt even know I’m out, why the devil did I even follow you here in the middle of the damn park on a school night, I HAVE A TEST TOMORROW, my mom is going to kill me if I fail it, I should be asleep.”

“Shut up”, I reply, “they might hear us”

“Fine, but what is the big deal about this ceremony anyway, how do I know you aren’t lying about this cult, I am going to be sooooo mad, I will literally rip your throat out of your neck and take a bite out of it, that’s how angry I will be with you.”

“Just wait we literally have ONE minute, stop being so impatient,” I hiss at him, “or you will scare the cult people away”

Tim seems to understand and doesn’t say anything else.

I watch my watch as the seconds slowly tick by.




“I don’t see anyone, remember what I said”










Midnight NOW

I see Tim gasp in excitement and surprise.

A wave of color washes through the gate. Men all in different colored robes, illuminated by the streetlights enter through the gate to the park in a silent single file line.

Tim- “what are they doing?”

“Shut up and watch before they hear us”

Tim continues to watch as the people lay down onto the floor of the park, in the shape of an enormous, beautiful flower.

Then a man dressed as a bee stands up. Kneeling in front of him is a whimpering, tied up man.

IT IS TIME TO POLLINATE – Bee Man screams as he brings down his ax on the whimpering man.

The blood splatters to all of the Flower Men.

I place my hand over Tims mouth to keep him quiet from the screams attempting to exit his mouth.

IT IS TIME TO BLOOM – Bee Man belts to the Flower Men

They all rise


Tim bit my hand, my blood runs down to the ground

Tim screams


Last edited 2 months ago by Chaz Jazzman
2 months ago

by Danny Knesek

Static cracked out of the vacuum tube radio stacked on milk crates in an old grain silo. Covered in dust, a dozen kids gripped their knees, whispered jokes and stories to pass the time, or slept. The sun imposed a deadly force on the group, laying siege upon their walls while they huddled fifteen feet below the surface where most of the heat couldn’t advance.

Alouette paced in the coolest part of the silo, scowling up at the rays that found their way into their sanctuary through cracks and holes left by bolts stripped long ago. “It’s been too long,” she grunted. As the second-oldest and the eldest girl at twelve, she helped herself to most of the worry, especially since Finch spent too much time with the littles.

“They said it would take a while,” interjected Wren, seven years old and often level-headed. “Let’s keep waiting.”

Alouette snapped, “It’s not like we have a choice. We can’t go outside.”

“We can’t go outside,” echoed Callum, Alouette’s four-year-old kid brother. He hung on Finch’s shoulders across the silo from his sister, not noticing the glare his sister shot at him. Finch noticed.

The fourteen-year-old spoke up, “It’s no use getting mad, Al. They said the radio would come on when the bloom started. Until then—”

At that moment, the radio static gave way to silence, hushing the children. A voice picked up. “Folks… …word from NASA’s solar station. They found elevated radia… …midnight tonight, the bloom will… …for our brothers and sisters in the Eastern hemi… …up tomorrow morning… …half. For those of us left, make your way to Wash… …by night. Good luck, and may God…”

The silence surrendered to the static. The kids continued bickering, crying, or disassociating. Even Alouette preoccupied herself with too much worrying to understand what was happening. But not Finch. He knew their parents were already gone. He knew a solar flare was about to change the world. He knew he would have to start leading these kids by night to the next town, then the next, then the next.

Last edited 2 months ago by Danny
2 months ago

The First of Us
by Aracnarquista

I look into the skies. The lights above, obscured by the canopy, bless my sacred endeavor. The stars call for my ascension. The moon smiles at such a holy pilgrimage.

All gentle luminous entities wait for the rite in which we leave the earth forever to soar in the breeze as new life.

I do not resent the soil, but I rejoice in leaving it behind. Our burrows and tunnels belong in the past; the colony follows its own path, while I tread higher roads. My siblings will not miss the lost wanderer who saw greatness and pursued elevation, but even now I think of them. My love will spread to them as well, once I perish.

But first, the climb.

The first step up the last climb fills me with expectation. Should I say us, rather than me? Describing this entity as “I” or “we” seems imprecise. The wonder that inhabits me and made me more than just one of my siblings can’t be encompassed in the idea of a single thing. “I”, “we”… the terms fail to conceive the sublime nature of connection. Where once I knew of only myself, we now care for everything. I left the group when true sight invaded me. The connective amalgam we became allows me to return to the group again, in spirit, so that all of my siblings will know of its glory and joy.

I reach the highs from where our holy message will spread. With no need to talk, I clench my jaws in the stem of the plant. A last love bite to ground this vessel to reality while we transcend. From the base of my skull a spire rises to the heavens, and love blooms.

Our corpse proclaims the fungal gospel to the wind.


“Look up, sister, to where the remains of the martyr rest. In her time, she made the sacrifice and gave us truth by spreading the blessings of the mycelium. Now we join her in the highs as new prophets of fungal connectivity. Our bodies will remain a testament of love. Now, the climb.”

2 months ago

By Partran

“Have you ever seen one launch?” Tanya asked as she leaned back on the long table that ran the length of the observation deck, coffee warm in her hands.

Alyssa shook her head, long hair flaring out around her and only slowly settling back to her shoulders as she leaned forward against the floor to ceiling windows and stared out at the gentle curve of the lunar surface. “No, its my first one.”

“It never gets old.”

As the girl watched the horizon, a towering structure, slender and elegant, rose over the gentle arc of the moon. Released from the shipyard it lifted away from the slight gravity, turning about its axis.

A graceful pirouette let the spreading petals catch the light that shone from the distant sun that cast the Earth in an azure-ringed shadow. The ship spread its wings for the first time with a delicacy akin to the first flowers in spring. The unfurling of the sails was a slow process, but they shone and rippled like light on a dark sea throughout.

“The crew’s already on board?” Alyssa asked with wonder tinging her voice, her eyes never leaving the ship as the great sails unfurled and the generation ship began to turn itself away from the shores of Earth and Luna and into the endless black sea.

“Yep. They’ll all be getting settled in, getting cozy for the trip. Next stop will be their great great great some odd grandkids meeting up with the forerunners.” Tanya said as she stood from the table and rested a hand on her niece’s shoulder, “You excited to be going?”

“Oh yes! Mom says we’ll be like dandelions, spread on the wind, putting down roots under other skies.”

Tanya smiled at that, growing thoughtful as her niece watched the ship curve across the lunar sky and spread its sails ever further. It was a bittersweet moment, but one she would cherish when her sister and niece had left. For now she enjoyed the moment for what it was and savored the shared wonder in the girl’s eyes.

Strong Berry
Strong Berry
2 months ago

Hide-and-Seek Under Moonlight (Connected to: https://thetalefoundry.com/2023/06/12/writing-group-castle-in-the-sky/#comment-31389)
By Strong Berry

Though the moon was already out in the night sky, and his mother told him to return home by sunset, Lot was still out at the forest with his friends. They were playing hide-and-seek, and he just didn’t notice the night creeping in.

He was hiding behind a blooming tree, and got bored, so he decided to look at the stars. He made a ring with his thumb and finger and looked though it at the sky. He stopped at the full moon, because something about it seemed… different. Not sure what, exactly, he continued to look at it through his hand. Then, he suddenly realized. The moon, for the first time, had fit perfectly in the ring he made. Lot let out a gasp. Never before did the moon fill the ring when he looked at it.

“Got you!” The seeker announced, but Lot didn’t care. “Look! Look at the moon!” He said to his friend.

“The moon? What about it?”

“It’s bigger now! It wasn’t so big before! Here, let me show you.” Lot showed his friend the moon though his hand. “Hey, you’re right! Hey everybody, come take a look!”

After they’ve all looked and saw the moon got bigger, they began to discuss what that change in size means. Lot seemed to be the one most fascinated by it, and was disappointed not to see the same fascination in his friends. After all, they said, the moon doesn’t really do anything other than light up the night, so a bigger moon is just… a brighter night, and nothing more.


When he arrived, he received a big scolding from his mother. He tried to tell her about his discovery, but she brushed it off as him thinking about foolish things instead of his worrying mother, and sent him off to bed.

Laying in bed, Lot was moments from falling asleep. He thought about today. About the bigger moon, and about what his friends and mother said about it. Maybe they’re all right, it’s nothing special after all.

Then the world began to shake.

Last edited 2 months ago by Strong Berry
2 months ago

Light of the night.

By Galer.

Aranea walked through the garden, the cold of the night clinging to her skin.

Her pale blue dress was carried by the winds of the night.

This section of the garden was a special place for a flower to grow.

A flower she relocated for how dangerous and beautiful it was.

They were all bathed in pale Moonlight.

A peculiar sound came out from their opened petals.

All of them did the same thing when they sang, dropping a crystalline substance.

One that evaporated in the morning just when the sun came.

It was a strange phenomenon because the light of the moon was the same as the sun.

It hardly made any difference.

“The concept of the moon in the crystalline form,” Aranea thought ” Why did your creator want you to be this way?”

Sadly the person that created this strange species of magical flowers also died before they could get it out to the public, leaving no other option than study the flower species closely as possible.

And after studying them they knew three things:

They were an artificial species closely related to kudzu.

The droplets of moonlight had strange chemical properties that could be used in sorceries.

Last but not least their song was their means to talk to each other, they are sentient and they were diurnal.

“You all are so beautiful and dangerous if you want to be what a contradiction, ” Aranea said out loud and then chuckled at her morbid joke ” Just like human beings, to think some people wanted you dead. Luckily we did the right thing and relocated you… I think?”

Is not that they were hellbent on conquering, they just wanted to live in peace on this crazy planet.

The flower’s frequency changed, the melody waved something in the air, and the words thank you could be seen.

Aranea smiled, “You are welcome.”

The wind came by, gently hugging Aranea and the flowers under the moonlight.

2 months ago

Midnight Rose (Chronicles of The Dragon)
By Makokam

Imogene sat on the floor in the tower study Vlad had constructed for her. She looked up through the windows at the moon as she waited for him to awaken.

She didn’t know how long this would take; she was the only other person in the world who had undergone such a transformation, and she’d been dead long before it was cast. But Vlad…

She looked over at his still form, laying in the center of the room. His wounds had healed, but he no longer breathed and his heart didn’t beat. She wasn’t sure what to make of that, as she herself was still as death when she slept. She could only assume it had worked.

It was well past midnight when he jerked awake.

He looked himself over, patting at where his vitals had been ready to spill out, only to find his skin whole and his blood unspilled. When his eyes met Imogene’s, he was sure that if they were capable, her eyes would be full of tears.

She slid herself across the ground and pulled his arm around her as held herself to his chest. “I was a sickly child, rarely able to do much, always smaller and weaker than others in the village. When my father brought me back, he told me I looked healthier, stronger, and more beautiful than I ever had, that I was like a bud that finally bloomed.

“I never believed him, but seeing you now, as perfect as if the greatest artists had carved you from marble, I understand. For eternity we’ll be together, nothing strong enough to take us away.”

Vlad held his dear Imogene tightly, too relieved to have escaped death, to be with his beloved midnight rose, to truly consider the meaning of eternity.

Ethan Jesse
Ethan Jesse
2 months ago

A World Ever Still
By Ethan Jesse

Let it be by the witness of moonlight that my eyes are unwell.

To view the world beyond this window is a pain most intolerable. Though I am well accustomed to the follies of the night, of which there tend to be few, the deaf tone of the new moon sings a dirge I cannot fathom. I kept candles reserved in the event of a lightless calamity, yet they now blaze ferociously just outside this haunting world of enthrallment, sat still upon my desk.

Beginning to describe that famine-wrought plane feels a disgrace, as if I blaspheme the very art of language with every drop of spreading ink. Yet, I know something is amiss, and I could not look my fellow men in the eyes should such wedging malice go unrecorded. Recording, for that is just short of breaking these fickle hands…

Let it be by witness of moonlight that the state of Aethera is unwell.

Though the green sails of the earth still catch wind in cast numbers, and though the king’s palace yet stands bright amongst the stars, unrest and dishevelment have stained the land. Something writhes…Something toils only in the dead hour of twilight, when the towns grow silent and the farce of rapture fades to black. My hands shake at the thought. It is all I can do to keep my eyes bleeding all I have to the dead moon strung above the shadow of a Carcosan empire. He, if not described as “we”, or not “it” or “the”, embroiling and embroiled, the Red Lotus of Midnight.

This…is too much for I, who did not flower nor weed. This parchment bears the mark of sins I did not commit, but sins I witness together with Aethera. Tonight births the sorrow of pestilence unspread, the midwife of sullied, rotten spilled blood. The new moon shines still, brighter than my candles, our kindling. The new moon of longing for a paradise since lost.

Let it be by witness of moonlight that a lotus is blooming, a red thing so sacred to take root in my soul.

Last edited 2 months ago by Ethan Jesse
2 months ago

Blooming under Moonlight

“Me, lonely?” She repeated the question back to me.

Silence billowed around us as her dress billowed around her. Or did it ripple through the air like the lake beside us?

“Why ask such a silly question? One perception does not mean all perceive the moon to be lonely.”

My hand rests on the hilt of my sword, my weight shifting from foot to another. Looking away meant admitting to the ever growing guilt I felt for asking, but continuing looking at her meant forgiveness that I so craved deep within my soul.

My breathing became uneven, my throat bobbed from taking a gulp of air, hands now tremmoring. Her eyes, oh gods, those eyes, how they stared back at mine.

There in the moonlight, she glowed and glided like a luminous lotus resting upon the lake. The very sight can make anyone weep.

Her outstretched hand gentle on my face as she wiped the tears away.

“My sweet moon child. Even calm waters see downpours.”

Time had stopped.

The tears didn’t stop, flowing like a gushing waterfall. My whole body shook with tremors that wouldn’t stop. Each one rippled through my body not knowing which caused the other. My heart and emotions now reflected like that of the crescent moon, longing for light to radiate off of it.

Her body, now closer than before, warmth, like a mother’s embrace pierced through my icy skin. I fell victim to her softness. Fingers combing through my hair, her gentle voice, I couldn’t make out a single word. Still, her melodic voice calmed my sorrows I’ve buried deep down.

With renewed life and vigor like a forest after a rainfall, I stood tall.

“Come child,” her voice, more urgent than before.

The leaves rustled on this windless night, red eyes stared back.

Sword at the ready in the close left position..

My mind raced with one word.


My breath quickened.


Calm your breathing.


It darted closer and closer.


Sweat rolled down my neck.




Protect her with your life.

That’s when I knew something had bloomed.

2 months ago

A walk in the dark

by Reinkarnitor


Fiona giggled as her friend made the long-stretched sound.

“Tired, my love?”

“Oh, I’ll live” he joked and took her hand again.

So the walk through the park, which the two were on, continued. They passed the little pond where a waterfall splashed playfully, breaking the still surface. Next they left the official path of the park and came to a batch of oak trees which marked the end of the otherwise flat grassy area which they were in until now.

As they entered, the leaves closed the sky atop of them, starlight only breached the branches in some spots.

“Pretty dark, huh?” Fiona stated, which earned her a chuckle from John.

“Not for you, I imagine.”

“I wanted to be nice” she admitted with a grin, and her fangs twinkled in the dim light.

The two continued to stroll through the forest, Fiona gently guiding John by holding his hand. She was careful not to walk him into trees or over uneven surfaces, where he could have fallen down.


The word came as a surprise to the vampire.

“What are you apologizing for?”

“Well…that you have to babysit me.”

“Nonsense, this is nothing” she assured him.

It got silent for a while, until they saw the edge of the forest, where the moon shined on the grass. In the distance they could even see the lanterns of the path again.

They were short before reaching it, when Fiona suddenly turned around and took both of John’s hands in hers. She pulled him in and then, without warning, placed a kiss on his lips.

For a short while they just stood there and enjoyed the moment, but eventually the need for air became too great…for John at least.

As they broke apart, they both smiled at each other happily.

“Don’t you dare to ever look down on yourself again” Fiona whispered, then she stepped out of the forest, twirling with a light laugh, her dress spinning around her.

And as he watched her there, John couldn’t help but think that she truly was…blooming in moonlight.

Ben Vaul
Ben Vaul
2 months ago

How I Found My God
By: Ben Vaul

Take a few seconds and look around wherever you are reading this. Take in your surroundings. Is there anything that you appreciate, or feel gratitude toward? It could be the sunset, your phone, even a lamppost. Whatever draws your eye. Pick one, and sit for a second, truly allowing that gratitude to swell over you. How lucky you are to have such a thing, and to live in such a time and place to experience it. How would your life be different without it? How is your life better because of it? It exists here and now despite the suffering of the world, despite all the forces of nature and man that may have stopped it.

Now, set aside some time later to repeat this. Pick something new around you, and let that same sentiment flow through you. I prefer every hour, but do whenever works for you.

You might find that it is convenient to personify the abstract collection of what you are appreciating. “Thank you for the craftsmanship of this desk”, even if the “you” is no one in particular. “I appreciate the universe providing me this unobstructed view of the full moon tonight” works just as well. It really is up to you how you characterize it.

This persona itself becomes your god. Maybe not the one you grew up told to believe in, but one uniquely yours. You can refer to it as He or She or It, or even a friendly Jon or Carol. You can pray to it in ways outside your ritual of appreciation, or stick solely to that one practice. You can ascribe benevolence and will to it, or consider it just a force of the universe’s natural order.

I am writing this now on my patio under the light of an absolutely stunning half moon, casting beautifully complex and shifting reflections on the pool. Whatever shape you mold your god into, I hope that you too experience that love and joy for the world. Like mine now, blooming under the moonlight.

Last edited 2 months ago by Ben Vaul
2 months ago

A Rose in Bloom

Helena was hiding in her favorite place to sulk: in her father’s study, crammed between the desk and the bookcase. The gap had always been just big enough for her to fit in its space, no matter how much she had grown, and it always had the perfect view of the family crest on the opposite wall: a red rose on a black field.

She could not, for the life of her, figure out why she was in such a bitter mood that day. But she knew that she wanted to be alone, unbothered, and surrounded by what she considered her true friends: books. Not that she was particularly in the mood to read any of them at the moment.

It wasn’t uncommon for Helena to find herself in these moods where the thought of having to interact with anyone caused hundreds of kinds of negativity to well up within her. Anger, discomfort, sadness, grumpiness, all sorts of unpleasant emotions swirled inside of the raven-haired ball of rage currently staring at the Bloodstone Rose on the wall.

She wanted to imagine the rose as shut, as a flower without the sunlight, as a bud. When she blinked, that was what she saw. It was how she wanted to feel at the moment. Like a bud refusing to blossom out of unsourced spite.

The closed rose stared at her from the wall, reflecting her emotional state back at her, forcing her to feel the aura she was exuding on the small room.

But then she noticed something out of place. A book on her father’s shelf had fallen over, but to where she could barely not see the text that lay, knowledge waiting to be consumed. As grumpy as she was, her curiosity tended to win out.

Book, or bud. Leave the safety, or stay in the brambles. Go to the thing she enjoys, or stay in the comfortability of anger.

The book won, in the end. Helena crawled her way out of the cranny, and towards the book. And on the wall, the rose bloomed once more.

C. M. Weller
2 months ago

TBH that sounds like a rule you should be breaking. How can you know what stories are gaining an audience if you don’t stretch them?

2 months ago

Bloody, cold, and beautiful
By: Boople

The samurai stood firm as the night breeze crawled along his bare skin. He could hear it whistle gently around the bamboo that enveloped his surroundings, paired with the ripple of tired koi in the pond that lay ahead of him the samurai clasped his sword firm and reflected on the day behind him.

As he recalled his strikes, he swung his sword.

As he recalled his defenses, he felt the impact of each block.

As he recalled his mistake, he became acutely aware of blood now plastered to his side and the pain of steel cleaving him above the right hip.

Even in the chill of darkness, sweat glistened his skin. Like the water of the pond and the gleam of his blade, his sweat too reflected the moon.

Sweat from fear,

from exhaustion,

from pain.

He had been swinging, stepping and dancing through his memory since sundown, creating crescent moons of his own as he cut the wind this night. It was not until the koi slept that he felt sated in his refinement, and as the water stilled he decided to lay his bare back on grass below.

And above him there were stars.

Beautiful stars that had captivated his mind since he first opened his eyes. Although the life he decided to lead was rougher, wandering alone and scrounging to survive, he found inspiration in those stars. In their beauty, and in the beauty of this world around him. He wanted to live and be free, and he found freedom in steel.

To the samurai, life is beautiful, living is beautiful, and he wanted to be beautiful in every aspect he could. Under the stars and under the moon he planted a simple resolution that would grow into his foundation, Bloom.

Let his mind bloom, Let his skills bloom, and let his heart bloom. Foster it all with diligence and love so they may never wither, and die as a man who had seen true beauty.

2 months ago

The Milky Waves
by Shinigamma

Parminda gripped the railing while staring straight ahead into the eternal darkness. On this night, clouds had stolen the Moon and stars. The only light was the soft glow of the instruments in the cabin; the only sound was the gentle lapping of water against the side of the boat. The other scientists could not be seen in the thick gloom, nor could they be heard. Their anxiety had snatched away their breath.

Parminda jumped at a sudden rustling to her right. She was about to curse her colleague Tariq, when she noticed his eyes. A pink light was glimmered within them.

She turned to face forward and saw it. The pink hole in the darkness, a rosy beacon in the endless night.

Parminda pointed at the luminous glow. “There!” she cried.

The night was ripped apart by the rumble of the starting engine. Soon, the boat was alive with figures scrambling about, grabbing nets, carrying buckets, and setting up cameras. Only Parminda stayed where she was, her eyes glued upon the bewitching sight ahead.

At first, they looked like a mass of round fuchsia petals, bobbing up and down at the ocean surface. Long, delicate ribbons floated wistfully beneath each circular head. As the boat cruised through the shimmering, pink expanse, some heads curved away from the hull, sweeping gracefully through the water.

The skipper switched off the engine, so now the boat appeared to float through a cnidarian sea. All activity ceased, as everyone’s eyes absorbed the spectacular parade around them.

A cloud moved.

Everyone gasped.

The full Moon tore open the night, her blinding rays sweeping across the endless sea. The jellyfish turned their heads to the great face in the sky, and began to drink the bright light pouring down on them. The pink glow faded, now replaced with a heavenly white that sparkled for miles around.

Parminda let go of the railing. Tariq lowered his camera. The others dropped their nets and sampling jugs and measuring equipment.

Not moving, not breathing, simply standing in awe as the boat drifted across the milky waves.

The Missing Link
The Missing Link
2 months ago

Petals in the Night
By: The Missing Link

Lenore heard the murder float through the air, mingling with her gossamer raven hair. Their cries amassed around the sport of the night, the crippled body of her sister Annabel. A corset of blood bloomed from the white of her favorite dress as the avian chorus commenced their feast.

Lenore felt nothing, seeing another songbird ground into the dust, another freed from its cage. But those eyes, those glowing eyes, burned deep in her soul, a brand within her chest forever to burn.

Her breath grew ragged, her eyes blurred. Minutes faded to days, weighed down by the agent of Fate within her palms, still blowing its rose of smoke.

She heard it more than felt it when the rain joined the chorus of the ravens in that yard, an accompaniment to the march of Annabel’s heart. Their symphony drowned the rest of the night, holding Lenore transfixed by its spell.

And so, she stood beneath the gate within the yard as the thunder covered the echo of the gun, now ice in her palm. Her gaze fell on one eye, peeking through the birds, staring back into her own. No one would come to ease her vertigo or the acid from her throat swimming in rain and blood.

“It had to be done,” she said to herself. “It had to be done. It had to be done.”

No longer able to tell the rain from the tears, she swung at the birds to view the flower stripped of its petals, once,

And nevermore.

R J Chapman
R J Chapman
2 months ago

“Ascension” by R J Chapman

The full Moon broke through the whispers of cloud, drenching the white cliffs in a pale pool of light. Entranced, he basked in it, savouring its glow. Beneath him, the waves raged their eternal war against the chalk. He let the zephyr wash over him, in a futile effort to cool himself. To no avail, the hot blood still gushed through his veins, and he remained lost in rapture.

‘It’s so…’ he couldn’t adequately sum up his thoughts with an adjective.

‘I know,’ his companion smiled.

‘Does it always feel like this?’

‘Yes. That rage and terror falls away until all that’s left is…’

‘Peace?’ he interjected.

‘More like transcendence. We are gods after all.’

‘But they don’t worship us. They fear us.’

‘Have you ever read the Old Testament? It’s the same damn thing. We offer them the bliss they crave.’

‘Bliss? But we kill them.’

‘And it’s the last thing they feel. We give them that. In return, like the Almighty, all we demand is a blood sacrifice. How did it taste?’

‘She tasted…’ his eyes flickered at the memory her. Wrapped in his death grip, she whimpered and moaned as he gnawed and sucked and gulped the elixir from her neck until there was nothing left inside her. ‘It was like I was on fire. Every muscle in my body was surging with power and I felt like I could tear the world in half.’

‘Have you screamed yet?’ his companion smirked.

‘No. What do you mean?’

‘It’s what we do. Someone once told me that it was their souls trying to escape.’


‘He was a superstitious one. A monk, actually. I enjoyed killing him.’ Their irisless eyes looked almost wistful on this admission. ‘Incredulous nonsense, of course. It’s just a predatory thing, but it’s a fun ritual all the same. And it does help with the burning.’

‘I still feel like I’m on fire.’

His companion patted him on the shoulder and held out their hand to the horizon. Together, from the top of the world, they bellowed at the face of God.

**Posted for the second time as I went back to edit my original post and then got a spam message and my story disappeared! If the original does to reappear please delete/ignore**

Last edited 2 months ago by R J Chapman
2 months ago

Night Watch
By Reidrev

Uther was relieved, he was chasing a intruder in the east wing, meaning he had a distraction from his thoughts.

To say his afternoon was disastrous would be putting it mildly. Aléa’s mysterious friend, Morgan, turned out to be the biggest jerk he ever met and he had to watch, Vivianne the cute mage apprentice, run away teary-eyed.

There he was thinking about that lass’s face again. Especially her freckles—gold dust sprinkled around big grey eyes, teary eyes. He pressed on trying to escape his wandering mind. The silhouette wasn’t that quick, but Uther didn’t want them to notice him, he wanted a distraction after all, and he couldn’t have that if he caught the guy right away. Couldn’t be anything less than a kid anyway, a cocky noble child who thought they were above laws.

The shadow slipped behind a large wooden door at the end of the hallway. « the ancient war room ?Weird » thought Uther « there’s nothing there but space and dust ». Uther stood in front of it for a bit, trying to hear the intruder’s goal before bursting inside, going off on the nitwit and returning to night watch and thoughtful boredom.

There was a lot of noise—jumping around, running and several concerning crashes. Uther was ready to bust the door open ; his duty was more important than his curiosity after all but he stopped. There was another sound, like cicadas whispering, discreet but unmistakable—someone was weaving magic in there. Uther pushed the door slightly ajar, if he startled the fool inside they could blow both of them up.

It was a woman, big grey eyes and gold freckles. Jumping on newly made rock pillars, throwing fire then ice before jumping down to take one of the ice spear as a weapon. She was sweating buckets but she never stopped for a second, she was furiously training, training to fight. Uther quietly closed the door with a smirk, already seeing Morgan’s face getting punched in by a cute gold sprinkled mage.

2 months ago

What Fruit Does Light and Darkness Bear?
by Lunabear (Private Repost)

Lady Lunaria rests her back against a pillar constructed of a spiraled quasar, tiny comets, and several frozen meteorites. She sits, floating on a balcony railing of periwinkle and onyx stars. Her dress of shimmering, royal blue lace bows to the light wind. With her luminescent face upturned towards the vast, multicolored cosmos, she wears an expression of forlornness.

“What troubles you, Radiance?” The crackling voice resounds from nearby.

“War, dearest Deviance. Besides yourself and Wolfwind, none except two other comrades have responded to my messengers. It worries me.”

The form of a man steps from within her shadow. “And this, you fear, implies…”

She sighs, her incandescent eyelashes kissing her pale cheeks for a moment. “Sufficient aid will not reach us in time. Less than seven nights remain, I believe.” Her featureless, fearful gaze seeks out Deviance. “The enemy–”

His tenor, filled with husky determination and promise, cloaks her. “Will not enter the borders of the Moonlight Realm, Luminescence. You have my word.”

She embraces his proffered comfort. “And Wolfwind’s, no doubt.”

A slight, dark chill caresses her arm, lifting the fine hairs. Almost a physical touch but not quite.

Lady Lunaria’s regard takes in Deviance’s inky figure beside her. The Shroud resembles a silhouette, except for holes indicating eyes and a smile. His coldness holds familiar peace.

“May I offer a dance to soothe your anxiousness?” He reaches towards the shadow of her hand, bowing in wait.

“I did not anticipate this.” Hesitancy stills her. A falling meteor careens through her chest. Indecision knits her brow.

Deviance retains his position.

“Perhaps a small interlude shall improve my tactical thinking,” Lady Lunaria relents, rising with graceful fluidity. She curtsies, the outline of her hand resting in his.

Glass and metallic chimes make music from afar, urging the duo’s steps. Phantom touches glide along her shoulders and the small of her back. Shiver after shiver rolls down her spine.

“Always, the dark clings to the light
The moon seeks out the night,” Deviance croons, ending the dance. He bows once more, then disappears.

Perplexity, alongside warmth, blossoms within her center.

Lee Strangely
Lee Strangely
2 months ago

Wisps Which We Wish We Wander With
by Lee Strangely

Beloc could never sleep without being able to see the forest in front of him. His heart wouldn’t let him. Not without seeing them just once. Every night he watched as, one by one, they all entered the world. He waited for each to appear.

The thin blue flames of the wisps sparked and sputtered to life. Their lights wandering the forest’s darkest shadows. Some lured, a few would guide, and others would go seemingly nowhere anyone could follow.

He perked up, though, when the last one came. The sight was a hook to his heartstrings, pulling HARD. His shimmering wings sprouted as he put on his hat, and leapt!

The flight of a fairy is rivaled only by a pure lightning bolt. Few can perceive one in its entire grandeur. Not even a sliver of a second had to pass.


The wisp could do nothing as it was caught in his arms. The two spun around as Beloc slowed himself down.

“I’m sorry,” he smiled, “I couldn’t resist.”

Things went quiet.

Beloc responded, “I know, I know… You don’t like it when I do this, but I want to see you again.”

After more silence, he continued, “Yes I do see your flame every night…” He then pulled them into a clearing, “but I don’t see you!”

As they twirled into the moonlight, there now were two. Wisps aren’t usually corporeal… except in full moonlight. Never used to being seen, the wisp tried covering their face.

Beloc gently brushed their hands away, “Don’t be like that, you look wonderful.”

“You wouldn’t want this,” the wisp spoke, “You’ll seldom see me as anything other than a light in the distance.”

“And I’d still give my wings to keep seeing it.”

“You shouldn’t bet something so important so frivolously,” they faltered, turning away.

He followed, “but you’re not the one betting it…”

They smiled as Beloc held their hands.

To his surprise, the wisp leaned close and kissed him. However, by then, the clouds finally retook the moon. The wisp faded away, their light drifting off back into the dark.

2 months ago

Transformation (Darkspell Universe)
By Alex Nightingale (aka Spectre)

Wagner Sand stood on the top of the grassy hill, letting the cold moonlight freshen up his tanned skin. He liked the outdoors and he liked hiking during the day, but she sun had nothing on the soothing, calming light of the full moon. His blood red eyes were fixed on the silver disk above him, the stars of the night sky accompanying it in a swarm of stationary fireflies.

“Thought I might find you here,” Valerie said from behind.

Wagner turned and smiled as she approached. She sat down next to him and planted a kiss on his lips.

“What brings you all the way out here at night?” he asked. “Shouldn’t you be guarding the city?”

“The world can last for one night without the Nightguard. Besides, I spend most of my nights wandering dreams, nowadays.”

“Night terrors still active?” Wagner looked concerned.

“Let’s not talk about that,” Valerie waved her hand. “How about you? Soaking in some moonlight?”

“Waiting. I’m waiting for my moon.”

He turned his attention back up to the silver disk up ahead, a light tinge of orange visible on the moon.

“I’ve heard that shucks can actually change the light of the moon,” Valerie whispered. “Is that true? Can you make it change colour?”

“I’m not that good, I’m afraid,” Wagner said, chuckling. “I’m just waiting for my time.”

He gave her a look. Valerie understood instantly and got up.

“Sometime, I want to see this,” she said, turning to the treeline.

“Sometime, you will. Just not tonight.”

“I respect that. Stay safe, Wagner.”

He waited for her to leave, before getting up. The moon had darkened into a blood red, the same colour as his eyes. As the world turned crimson, dark mist unfurled from him, spilling over the ground. To him, it felt like a flower, uncoiling its petals in the spring, showing the sweet nectar it really held inside.

Wagner gave one, loud howl, as he rose above the ground. Black mist trailed behind, as the shuck charged down the hill and into the forest.

2 months ago

Just as The Black Widow Bites, I Feel The Thunder in Heaven Tonight
By Marx

Daisy sighed up at the night sky. “I’ll be leaving soon. To kill Alex…”

Rhea’s lips curled into a frown. “Alex needs to die. I get that. I do. I just…”

“You didn’t know me before.” Daisy’s gaze turned to her fingers as wisps of magic danced along her pale skin. “I was… a trash human. Then I provoked Alex. He took joy in breaking me. In ripping me apart.”

As Daisy spoke, the wisps seeped into the soil, causing a large crack to appear. “He tore at me, piece by piece until there was nothing left. He-”

“Daisy, it’s okay.” In a practiced motion, Rhea held Daisy close, gently petting her hair. “You don’t have to think of-”

“But I do.” Daisy interrupted, gently breaking the embrace and turning her attention back to the crack. “Because after Alex was done breaking me, he threw me away. Then Will saved me. He showed me kindness. He showed me love. And then we met you and I received more of both.”

Rhea smiled, her gaze only turning away from Daisy when she noticed a glowing flower bud rising from the crack in the soil, blooming into a beautiful rose.

Daisy continued, “I was able to grow. Become a better person. You and Will picked me up when I fell apart. But… it didn’t help when Alex came back for me. It… weakened me. And only when I embraced the old me again could I protect you.”

“Daisy…?” Rhea murmured as she saw the rose darken and the thorns taking over.

“Love isn’t going to help me kill him. Neither is fear. I hate him. I hate what he did to me. I hate what he made me into. And if I don’t kill that asshole, I’ll sure as hell die trying.”

Rhea was forced to back away entirely as Daisy burst into a blinding glow, the forces of her magic whipping the air into a frenzy around them.

The beauty of the rose was visible for just a moment longer before it was buried under countless vines of razor sharp thorns.

Fog Wall
Fog Wall
2 months ago

A Garden Above(Elderwood)
~Foggy Wall

The shed was small but fit everything he needed to keep the garden maintained. James stepped out, turned with the door and locked it closed. While it was a public rooftop, no one in the apartments ever came up here.

The sun had set and our twin moons were large on the horizon. The latest additions to my garden were some beautiful lilacs. It’s said that they only bloom by moonlight, though that won’t be tonight.

“Hey, Honey. I thought I’d find you up here. How’s the job hunt?”

James turned to find his mother sitting on the bench, her chin resting on her arms, folded on the backrest. She smiled at him, with her head laid sideways.

“Uh… About that, I think I found a job. The woman who offe-”

She cut him off with an “Oh!” As she sprung over the bench with one hand on it. Landing quietly, she strolled toward him. “There’s a girl? How long? Who is she? Is she pretty?”

A smirk crossed her features as he turned darker shades of red. When his mother got to standing directly in front of him, he looked away.

She moved to make eye contact. “Well, whoever she is, she’s got you stumbling. Doesn’t she?”

“It’s not like that.” James said, stepping around her and heading for the bench. She followed along humming whimsically. “Y’know, mom. This job will require me to move again.”

His mother took the seat beside him and her smile faultered. “What sort of work will it be?”

Just then, the sound of an engine came up from the building edge. It was only a moments notice prior to Koelle coming into view on her anti-grav motorbike. She was dressed in a dress with black skin-tight pants, no footwear and a black helmet which hid her face.

She slowly hovered around the bench and landed in the open space behind them. James’ eyes snapped onto his mothers’ gaze, which radiated a certain ‘Gotcha’ vibe.

“So. That’s her, huh?”

“She’s like a sister, Mom.”

C. M. Weller
2 months ago

A Lesson Under Moonlight [KoshDelia Ever After]
C. M. Weller

The Master of Dark Den Dojo used to be the Thrice-Sworn King before the Blood Throne chose another leader. Now he was content to make cheese, garden, and teach anyone willing to learn. Master Kosh walked with a cane, his indigo curls streaked with grey that was more a pale, pale blue. Yet everyone who came to him KNEW that he could kick anyone’s ass if he so chose.

Ami was weight training by bringing the Hellkin Master heavy pails of good soil for repotting some of his more peculiar plants. The flowers were otherwise ordinary, smelling as sweet as the rest, but they were a dull and strange shade of grey.

Questions were welcome in the sunny terraces or bright rooms of the Dojo. The answers may not always make sense.

“Master, why do you grow grey flowers?”

“They’re not always grey,” blue fingers pressed handfuls of rich soil into the new vessel, careful to support the otherwise normal plant. “The moons shall be full tonight. Will you come to water them then?”

This had to be another one of the Master’s sideways lessons. “I don’t see well in the dark.”

“I will be here to fix that.”

Strong though the moonlight was that evening, Ami could only see dark shadows against darker backgrounds. It took her some time to pick her way, cobblestone by cool and smooth cobblestone, to the Master’s weird garden. He, too, looked like a shadow, but one with glowing golden eyes.

He put his finger to her brow and murmured a word.

The whole world was now in thousands of shades of grey, except the very flowers she had helped Master Kosh plant that day.

They were GLORIOUS. Not just the colours of daylight, but colours never seen outside of the labyrinths of the Underdark. There were colours she couldn’t even name. So bright and beautiful that tears came to her face.

“Deepblossoms,” he said. “Hellkin flowers. They look their best only through darksight.”

He could have just SAID, “Other people see the world differently, so don’t doubt their experiences.”

Tamela Redfin
Tamela Redfin
2 months ago

Warm and Fuzzy (Glenora)

By Tamela Redfin

Nora looked at the rippling water. She wondered what was in it.

“Those ripples are way too big to be a fish.” She thought. She was not prepared for it. She saw a tall, lean muscled teenager with orange glowing eyes. In spite of herself, she screamed.

“It’s okay. Please, relax.” The night calmed down, just like her heart.

Nora watched him run a hand through his wet hair.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“My name is Glenn. Are you Elenora?”

She nodded. “I go by Nora though. What are you doing here, Glenn?”

“I escaped.” His eyes faded to a dull grey color. “Augen can’t contain me forever.”

She hugged the sodden teen, feeling something odd in her heart. “Do you need a place to stay?”
“I do, but it’s best… wait a minute. Are you feeling ok?”

Nora nodded.

“You’re immune. I’m so poisonous, it’s like I’m radioactive.” He smiled. “You’re immune.”

Nora heard her mother call for her. “Nora, where are you? It’s getting late.”
Glenn released her. “I should let you go.”

Nora gasped and grabbed his hand, feeling her heart race. “Please, stay with me. I can help you.”
“I suppose I don’t have another choice.” Glenn replied.

She dragged him home, still feeling funny inside. Not a sick funny, but a funny, funny.

At last, Nora was home. “Mom, I found Glenn. He’s the boy who saved me from the camera.”

“You may go in.” Helen gagged a bit. She then looked at Nora. “Are you okay, Nora?”
“He makes me feel all warm and fuzzy. Him being handsome doesn’t help.”