Anna Meade – Page 24 – Yearning for Wonderland

Faerytaleish Pinterest Contest: Anna Meade

MEDEA

You came to Colchis.

I pulled loose acanthus branches.

Though thorns cut my hands,

I wound them ‘round columns for you.

I honored your victory with laurel wreaths.

I wound them in your dark gloss’d curls.

I slept to murmured words of love,

My face buried in your bronzed throat.

I burned for you.

I did all to help you.

I gave you unguents and herbs.

Hecate laughed at my blind adulation.

They say: The gods laugh when they answer your prayers.

I killed my brother for you.

I cut him in a thousand pieces.

They never found them all to bury.

I did all to hurt you.

You left me for Glauce, princess.

Her wedding gifts: a gold coronet and dress of crimson cloth.

I worked hatred into the weft and poison into the weave.

I, whom you called barbarian,

I sent her our sons, bearing these gifts of my love for you.

She burned for you, her soft flesh melting like wax.

Now the wedding dress is her shroud.

I wander the ruin’d garden.

This twilight is never-ending.

The vines pull my dress and hair.

I walk up the crumbling steps.

My skirts weigh me down.

The children pull at them.

I keep looking, looking for you.

I raise my right hand to the gods.

I implore for vengeance.

They turn their faces away.

I hear Hecate laughing.

Leaves redden in the dying light.

My hands are too empty.

I killed our sons for you.

I wound my hand in their dark gloss’d curls.

I bared their bronzed throats, so like their father’s.

I cut them in a thousand pieces.

I scattered them to the sea.

I still hear their voices, feel their breath.

It pulls at me like a thousand vines, binding me to twilight.

300 ineligible words

Faerytaleish Pinterest Contest: Eric Martell

This #Faerypin entry created by Eric Martell (@drmagoo on Twitter)

Doors

The old stories spoke of endings. It’s all endings or beginnings, he thought. The old stories all began the same way. “A door, a way, a path, and we pass through. But doors open to those on both sides of the wall.” He remembered his favorite story as a child, of the ancient kings, obsessed with obsession, passing through the same door at the same time without seeing each other, so blinded by their desires they were. There was wisdom there, wisdom he wished all shared, and yet few even sought.

There were some who prayed for endings, he knew. Some who wanted to see what The Enemy looked like, as if it mattered. Fools they were, and more. Whatever hopes they’d had, were frail and tenuous at their best, and now had passed through a door someone who should have known better swung wide.

He knew that the knocks on his own door would come soon. Mothers with babes, young men who had eyed a shop of their own, and the nobles, thinking that hunks of metal and rock, however pretty, mattered at a time like this.

But the shadows outlined the shape of the open door in the courtyard. He wanted to close it, lock it, bar it with stone and steel, but he knew the old stories too well. The Enemy had seen the open door, and knew what it meant, as he did. It knew the magic of the Invitation.

Doors open to those on both sides of the wall, he thought, and knew what he had to do next. Watching the shadows, he stepped through the door at just the right time, and felt the brush of The Enemy as they passed. Behind him, the screams began. And ended.

Inspired by: http://pinterest.com/pin/179158891396699858/

Faerytaleish Pin Contest: Miranda Kate

This entry to the #Faerypin contest is by Miranda Boers (@PurpleQueenNL on Twitter)

Spellbound

Spellbound was indeed what she was when those eyes met hers. The minute she was caught by them she knew she was his. He didn’t need to lure her back to his lair; she was more than happy when he told her he was going to keep her there forever.

She would sit for hours and wind her fingers in his sundrenched hair while he tapped away on the locks that would bind her to him. She would whisper sweet nothings in his delicate elfish ears and run her fingers along the ornate markings on his deeply tanned skin while he wove the iron strands into place. And she would wait for the moment he would pause in his toil and look at her, making her catch her breath as she lost herself in the starlight glow of his eyes. Then he would smile in his quiet coquettish way, and her heart would flutter.

Despite the sparse furnishings of his beach dwelling cove, he made sure her new home wanted for nothing; providing silk cushions for her to lie upon, and a little tray for her food and drink. Then he hung her up high to give her full view of the ocean and they would watch the sunsets together.

As time went on it was the mornings she looked forward to the most, when he would wake her with his poking fingers and open up the door. She would turn and meet his dreamy gaze wishing once again that she could kiss his perfect lips and feel their fullness. But alas it was never meant to be; she could only dance along his finger and tickle them with her own miniature set, while fluttering her tiny wings against his cheek, and making him laugh.

295 words