A Mind in Motion

     I remember the first time I saw her, truly saw her--raven locks billowing in the wind as she sat astride a horse she had stolen from a solider who lay dead at her feet. Her dark hazel eyes burned with a multitude of emotions--anger, pain, regret, devotion and revenge. Her slight build was encased in mere riding leathers, no protection from the arrows whistling in the air our way, but she stood fierce in defiance nonetheless.      She was glorious, and terrifying all at once.      When word reached our village that the young Queen had finally been freed from the cavernous prison the King had placed her in, we quickly grabbed whatever weapons we could and met her small traveling party on its way to the castle.       She needed us.      And we needed her.      The chaos that had consumed our kingdom since she first appeared on our Lord's arm a decade ago had torn at the fragile edges of...

     It wasn't the early morning drive on just a few hours of sleep that had her on edge.      Or the way the radio only seemed to find more static than songs.      It wasn't the lack of traffic on the road--as she was traveling through the country after all, nor the occasional unnecessary amount of pot holes she had to keep avoiding on her way home.      No, it was The Fog .      The all consuming white mist that seemed to let her see just two car lengths ahead, and barely a full car length behind her as she passed through it.      It wasn't like it was unexpected, it was often foggy on her trips home when she had been out and about the night before.      But this one felt different.      Hell, it even smelled different.      Not like damp fallen leaves and wet wood, something that usually said fall was in full swing to her.     ...

     A torrent of rain fell from the broken clouds above, screaming into the night as each drop sizzled against his raging skin. He knelt, pleading into the rapidly warming mud caking his body and clothes for some kind of mercy, but each cell in him continued to burst into flickering wisps of flames.      The pain was maddening, his joints seizing and flexing under the strain like he was a marionette strung tight to a demonic marionettist. Spittle foamed out of his mouth and waves upon waves of colors like churning cinder washed across his vision.      Death had been far more peaceful than this furious rebirth.      His robes, spun from the finest material, burned like wicks, surrounding him in a glowing pulsing light as the individual flames bursting from his skin began to merge and grow together. The air surrounding him was suffocating--billows of colored smoke rising up, tangling themselves with the rain drops that contin...

     There was a rumble in its depths, a Hunger that trembled the earth around it, and teeth--jagged like clustered razors--grinned with awareness. Ancient muscles, stiff from slumber, stretched and rippled across its massive cramped frame. Long toes, tipped with sharp claws the color of midnight, bent and pushed against loose rocks surrounding it, encouraging them to slide and tumble free from the surface walls of the weakened chamber it was in. Fingers that could curl into themselves like rolling tumble weeds, also flexed within its confines--joints popping and claws scratching at granite that had once been a flowing bed of magma.      Eyes, so white even darkness could not dull them out, slowly drifted open like a cluster of fluttering fireflies and finally took in its surroundings. What had once been an almost endless cavern, was now nothing more than a shallow grave.      A guttural sound, much like a trill, echoed up from its depths,...

**Here is a small extract from the prologue of the science fiction piece Sihmarán I've spent the last few years working on. I hope you enjoy it!** The vessel—shaped like a gaunt faced grinning tadpole—bucked and turned on its side as tendrils of fire uncurled themselves and reached out towards it. Scorched cries of frustration vibrated out amongst the stars as the battered ship evaded one searing grasp after another, pushing itself to its straining point, it’s hull rattling as it raced for freedom. She gritted her teeth, her bruised forearm shaking under the fierce grip she had on the side-stick control column as the vessel bucked and rolled again from the gravitational pull of the consuming planet below. The warning klaxons echoed around her as the ship’s systems struggled to hold up under the weight of the fight. But she held on, her eyes focused on the perimeter of space just beyond the planet’s threshold. They were almost there and she refused to fall a...

     Sunlight scattered through vibrant green leaves swaying gently in the soft breeze as it pierced through dense forest treetops and lit the woodland below. The thick scent of wild flowers, moss and pine sap drifted on the wind, wrapping around towering trees and skittering across the noses of scurrying creatures as it journeyed through. The wings of birds flying from one perch to the next echoed in the serenity of nature--murmuring like a heartbeat outward to all approaching it--and the Wolf finally found what it had been looking for.      Yellow eyes flickered over the worn stone that sat nestled in the perfectly formed Fairy Ring , soft grass rustling like gentle touches against its washed out grey surface. The deep grooves carved into the weather worn face swelled with shadows as they circled around the ornate dais, marking it with sacred words so old they could not break across the tongue unless uttered upon the granite alone.      ...

     The first time they filled the air around them had been on the battlefield as they crashed against one another from opposing sides. Blades sparked, skin perspired, muscles flexed and eyes devoured emotions bursting forth like clouds of chaos. Teeth rattled with their amor and words sliced where swords could not, but their hearts echoed in rhythm as they recognized a tether between them.      Through the haze of war, their Lust turned from Blood to Passion and their lips swore to meet again.      The second time was in the dead of night--the air so chilled their breaths billowed like ghosts as they met secretly beneath woodland stars. Shy lips were emboldened by the heresy they were creating, so they filled the cracks within one another--shaping and shifting Passion into Love .      The third time was a knife to the Soul for them both.       Fire danced around them, keeping them divided by the t...