By what cruel mimicry of ‘love’ should I—a man reduced to a thing which cannot touch you with softness, cannot kiss you with—what right have I to a woman like you? You of passion and flesh, of potential and ardent,…
By what cruel mimicry of ‘love’ should I—a man reduced to a thing which cannot touch you with softness, cannot kiss you with—what right have I to a woman like you? You of passion and flesh, of potential and ardent,…
“You loved ravens. You fed them from our bedroom window every eve, with the sunset around you like a blazing stage as you leaned out in your gauzy night things, your hair unbound, shimmering in the breeze…” His gaze misted…
“She’s calling for you, you little bastard!” one of the hooded figures bellowed toward the castle. The castle’s double doors crashed open. Young Darian stepped out onto the stair landing, wearing buckled black boots, torn trousers, and a billowing white…
“Have you ever killed before?” she asked the boy. He didn’t answer. It was answer enough. “You don’t know the feel of blood on your hands,” she murmured. “And I do not think that a soul which began innocent will…
Inevitably, the last dessert crumbled to its porcelain plate, and only he and she breathed into the solitary, crackling silence. That was when he rose, his cloak swishing, honey-gold mask reflecting the fire, and spoke. “Come, I’ll show you…” Continuing…

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When I was twenty-two, I ran away to Prague, where I now sing to my black cat (who collects dustballs in her whiskers), eat chocolate for breakfast, and have lemon tarts every Thursday.