The rules for the dead have always been different. From ghosts within graveyards and vampires versus the sun, even demons have their do and do nots when it comes to survival. However, for Wraiths and Reapers, rules are fluid. And when Death is your concubine, the only steadfast rule is that sooner or later, the end comes for us all.
So every once in a while I dibble and dabble in short stories. Help us make this anthology a winner. Follow the link below and vote for Crossroads in the Dark II: Urban legends. And don’t forget to check out the story (Shadow Ink) by my alter ego Aziza Sphinx in the anthology.
So occasionally I like to do those random quizzes and had some interesting results when toying with an excerpt from my story Lucid. Most of you probably have no idea who Vladimir Nabokov is but I studied his work in one of my theory courses and I think I agree with this one.
I’ve often questioned if the weather and my emotions shared a common thread. Many a morning have I awoken to a smile on my lips and sunshine basking across my face. And just as many days has the rain accompanied the heaviness inside, one I cannot explain and ignore most of my waking days. Does one cause the other? Does the whisper of the wind sing my spirit? Or maybe, just maybe, when I walk with the loneliness, the universe shares in my sorrow and spreads its wings over the world in a cleansing mist. The close of spring and welcome to summer escalated the shift in the weather, my emotions tugged along in the ebb and flow of the end of the blossoming of May flowers and the scorch of the blaring summer sun. The storms grew in intensity, whipping winds accompanied sheets of rain, the few and far between as the days grew longer.