Moonfall Story Index
Sarah Morrigan’s husband Seth hasn’t been the same since he was injured in a fire years ago. He ignores her. He obsesses about his garden and his alchemy. A shadow grows up around him. It fills their house, separating him from Sarah, choking her off.
One day he comes back to her. The shadow is gone.
Or is it?
Warnings - the usual death and angst and horror ones, plus also now sexual themes!
In the Valley of the Sun Story Index
This story is completed. :)
Lilith Parker is working at the local paper, announcing births and birthdays and deaths. One morning her boss Shannon gives her a more exciting assignment – research the local haunted house and write an article on its history. Nice flavor for Halloween, right?
But then Shannon turns up dead the next day, the local townspeople seem intent on keeping the story of the haunted house a secret, and Lilith is being haunted herself. Will she survive?
Bits and Pieces Story Index
These are stand alone one off short stories, inspired by challenges and prompts at the LJ Idol writing community. Some are Sims stories, some are full text, some feature familiar characters, some have new characters.
Note – in pretty much everything I write there will be occasional curse words, non-gory violence, and DEATH!!! Also you may be eaten by grue.
Estelle had seen the fire in the woods from her bedroom window three nights in a row. It was out there now, orange and red under the silver light of the moon. The firelight flickered between the trees. She didn’t hear nothing, no roaring or crackling, and she’d gone out during the day to look and the underbrush hadn’t been burnt and there weren’t any marks on the trees at all.
Her granny had told her to never go in the woods alone at night. She said there were bad things out there, evil things that would gobble a little girl right up.
Estelle didn’t pay her no mind.
Seth finds a baby on the ground! He picks it up! Seth has acquired item Baby.
Usually the darkness comes in the mail.
Sometimes it comes through the chimney, or through a window open to catch the yellow afternoon sun. Once it came up through the toilet. That was a bad day.
Mostly, though, it’s the mail.
The eggs never cracked correctly, no matter what he did.
Seth checked the recipe for making the oil of egg. The author of the alchemy website had assumed that anyone reading her posts would already know how to separate the yolk from the egg white. She hadn’t written anything about what to do if little bits of the white kept getting into the yolk, if the crack was never a smooth line but always a jagged cut. His mother might know, but he didn’t want to talk to her. He didn’t want her in his space, in his experiments. Alchemy was his. No one else could touch it.
The egg carton he’d stolen from the refrigerator was almost empty. He’d hit an egg on the edge of the blue glass bowl, the same way his mother did when she made scrambled eggs for breakfast, and there had been the tiny white bits, mixing with the yolk and making it all wrong. He’d glanced an egg off the hard surface of his desk, his only reward a sticky yellow and white mess that he’d tried to clean up with an old towel. He didn’t know what he was doing wrong, why it seemed so easy for everyone else, so easy that no one even bothered to explain it.
He picked up another egg. He considered all the ways to crack it, all the ways that might result in a cleanly broken shell and a perfect unbroken yolk. He tapped it against the side of the bowl. Gently. Lightly. He counted each tap, one two three four, and he remembered.
The darkness clears. I’m back in Otherworld, in the water. I can feel sand under my toes.
I’m okay. I’m okay.
I focus on my breathing. I know how to do this. Take deep slow breaths, and ride the panic down.
I can’t go back to Marigold. Not yet. I didn’t learn anything. Not anything that could help. I learned that out there somewhere, Seth and I had a daughter. Who I couldn’t keep safe, who died, screaming, in a fire. And then I don’t know what happened to me, but Seth…
That wasn’t my Seth. I try to tell myself that, as the panic rises again. That wasn’t my Seth.
I have to try again. I have to find another world. There has to be one out there where Seth is happy, where he’s okay, where the shadow has not touched him. There has to be a Sarah out there who figured things out, who kept everyone safe, who did things right.
I take a deep long breath, and I hold it. I know how this goes, now. I know the darkness is coming, and I know it’ll be okay, that it won’t last long, and then I will be somewhere else.
I dive back under the water.
The air feels different here. It’s light. Springy. Like I could take a big breath of it, hold it in my lungs, and float up to the clouds. But the weight of the dim green clouds seems to forbid such frivolity. The trees do not move. The water lies still. There is no wind.
I thought there would be sounds. I thought there would be voices clamoring and murmuring, pleading and praying, a sea of voices crashing against the shore of this place. But there is only the silence, only the clouds pressing down.
I take a step forward. The ground is soft under my feet.
They are out there, in the water. The voices. The other worlds. I can’t hear them, but they are there, and I am going to find them.
Marigold’s magic shop is one that moves.
I had never pegged Marigold as being into unicorns on velvet under blacklight. But maybe this is what she thought people expected when they came to the wagon to have their fortune told.
Maybe I should dye my hair pink. Maybe I should buy velvet unicorn paintings. Maybe I should do acid.
Maybe I should stop making waffles.
That would not be what Seth expected.