The Supper of the Fae

Driad_by_vidagr

In the blue forest of night

With candles abright

A young Driad whom calls herself Klea watches you skillfully

From the comfort of her trees

You are a visitor here

You come from Earth

The Earth you know is in a slow death

Earthquakes and high gas prices signal the apocalypse

But it is no big explosion of death

It is a slow death

The Driad spoke to you,

“Slowly your Earth is erased through storms and earthquakes

it is a slow death and a fast rebirth at the same time.

A slow death because nature is erasing everything

A fast revirth because you are still here, but your buildings are not.

You will start from scratch and live in simplicity.”

The Driad invited you to dinner, which she calls supper

And this meeting of magical creatures

was not like how you’d seen in a movie

Little fairies gave you a crown made of twigs

Big fairies—the Driads—make strange food

From dead insects and homemade dough pie

Their wolves could talk and sit on the wooden chairs at the tree-table

Gnomes were strange: they could float, talk science and eat fast

The unicorn hid itself away in the forest trees

Ten or fifteen little fairies would bring food to it

Little dragons would chirp in conversations with each other

And gobble up the wonderfully seasoned meat

And what about you?

You look around in happiness, see everything is bliss

And you believe the Driad’s words

You take one bite of the strange meat-bug pie

What say you?

Is it good?

(top image driad by vidagr from DeviantArt)

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The Supper of the Fae

Pincer: A Post for Friday the 13

 

At the height of dawn the sky was still dark. Inside the old-fashioned family house, a young woman ran for her life down the hall. She stained her favorite blue pajamas with orange juce as she jumped over the table. Her roommates, a brunette named Sylvie; a blonde goth named Courtney; and a pink-haired girl whose name is unspecified, all lay dead on the floor with thousands of holes inside their bodies and eye sockets empty of eyeballs. Our young heroine, Dabby Montague, stopped at the doorway of the kitchen. When she heard that buzz, that loud song, she looked to her left and saw the magicicada on the wall. She dashed into the kitchen and ran to the exit door, shaking the knob, she panicked where she stood!

“Who the hell locks a damn door?” she wondered.

“Well, you have to if you are living with three young women in the country right by a college that is say…a five minute walk away.”

Continue reading “Pincer: A Post for Friday the 13”

Pincer: A Post for Friday the 13

Abysmal Image, Abysmal Sunset

 

01: //A B Y S M A L   S U N S E T//

 

 

 

The world was (renewed)

returned to earlier times

Megan Carin <“Unknown Girl” the poetess> stepped out

into the beyond, leaving the cave with Rinna

leaving the cave with (Rinna) and Freda

Freda Carin

Continue reading “Abysmal Image, Abysmal Sunset”

Abysmal Image, Abysmal Sunset