Borrowed Time

Cerass rose on her tip-toes to reach the window latch and push it open. A cool breeze caressed her short, jet-black wavy hair, tipped in blue. The dark orange tones of dusk were settling in on the horizon. She turned to face the Roth family gathered around a sheet-covered corpse on a metal exam table at the center of the sterile subway-tiled room.

“Ms. Nightshade, does the window really need to be open? It’s cold enough in the morgue as it is,” said a middle-aged but well-maintained woman in a form-fitting black dress.

“Yes. My psychopomp is retrieving your father’s soul and needs to be able to enter the room.”

“A psycho what?” asked Jacob, a sandy-haired young man with his arms crossed over an expensive-looking Italian suit.

“My crow, Bertok. He escorts spirits to and from the afterlife.”

“So the legends are true? Crows are the mediators between life and death?” asked the woman.

“That’s correct, Ms. Roth.”

The sound of a distant caw drifted through the open window.

By Fin or by Foot:

The Lost Child of the Sea

Leomaris lay on a soft bed of sea sponges, eyes closed and red hair swirling around his head. He dreamed of the land and running through tall grass, the green blades cool against his bare skin. Damp earth squished between his toes. His feet pounding the ground as he raced across the hills felt exhilarating. Then, a tickle on his nose brought him gently awake. He opened his eyes, seeing a sleek blue and yellow butterflyfish staring at him. The little fish acted as his mother’s messenger. 

“What does she want now, Podi?” He was annoyed at the intrusion; she rarely allowed him any solitary time. Leomaris rose to a sitting position, stretching out his arms.

The fish flicked his fins impatiently at him and turned to swim away. He swished his long flukes and followed Podi through the reef teeming with vibrant life. A small school of silvery minnows swam through red, blue, and orange corals. Seagrasses lazily swirled back and forth with the flowing tide. Crabs, urchins, and sea stars clung to the rocks, searching for food. Within all that beauty lay slime-covered bottles, rusted cans, plastic bags, and other human trash. Leomaris shook his head and kept swimming toward the canyon. He dove deeper—the water changed from light azure blue to dark indigo. 

The Longest Night

The first path - Discovery

On the eve of the longest night, the moon before Yule shone brightly in the heavens. A layer of hoarfrost blanketed the forest, sparkling in the darkness. Seasaìdh stood at the crossroads, ready to begin her journey. Everything was deathly silent; the only sound was the crunch of ice crystals beneath her boots as she moved through the winter landscape. 

The moonstone gem on her choker gleamed with a pearly iridescence. She stroked the smooth surface, seeking its protection and guidance on her inner spiritual path. A plume of steamy breath washed over her pale lips. Her thick fur cloak and footwear kept the icy air from biting her flesh.

Seasaìdh’s hands twitched nervously at her sides. Was she prepared for the task? She took a deep breath to calm herself and regain her sense of purpose. Her clan’s wise woman specifically chose her for what lay ahead, and she was determined not to falter in her resolve.

The Sleeping Son

Talia Lutgardis packed the last of her belongings inside the leather-covered trunk and fastened the lock. She glanced nervously toward the door. A figure whose face was nearly identical to hers, but much older, scrutinized her every rushed movement. The stiff tension in her shoulders made her desperate to escape the weight of the woman’s stern judgment.

 Her mother’s brows pinched together over brown eyes as she stood with her arms crossed over the bodice of a crimson brocade gown. The matriarch’s mahogany-colored hair was pulled back into an elaborate updo with a streak of silver running from her right temple to a braided bun atop her head. The elegant look starkly contrasted the simple traveling overcoat and britches Talia wore.

“My darling, please stop this recklessness. You cannot set out on this foolish quest by yourself.”

“I’m not going alone. Krugon and Bertrand are accompanying me.” Talia waved in an arc, indicating to a gargoyle and crow. Her other hand was at her side, balled into a fist.

LITTLE RED RUNNING WOLF

Little Red crouched in the tall grass. Her tail swished back and forth with barely contained excitement. The diminutive wolf’s eyes locked onto her unsuspecting prey—a fat gray hare nibbling contentedly on a patch of clover, unaware of being hunted. Red stalked forward in silence as her mother had taught her. Closer and closer, she approached. Her heart beat faster in anticipation of her first kill. The hare still had its back to her. Red’s leg muscles tensed, ready for the ambush. 

She sucked in a breath and pounced. Fur filled her mouth as her fangs sank into the hare’s neck and clamped down. Her prey struggled, but Red shook her head, snapping the animal’s neck. The thrill of her first successful hunt surged through her, pride swelling in her chest. 

Red released the dead hare and raised her head, howling in triumph. The howls of her packmates answered in the distance. White ears appeared over the tall grass, and her mother’s tawny face broke through the stalks. Leaves crunched all around her, announcing the arrival of her littermates. Her brother, Seiko, charged forward, mouth agape, intent on tearing into the hare. She growled and snapped at him. He sneered but backed away. 

“Little Red, aren’t you going to share your bounty with your siblings?” Her mother tilted her head with a questioning look.

“No. I want to take this to grandma. You said she wasn’t feeling well and is holed up in her den.”

“It’s a perilous journey for a youngling like yourself,” said mother wolf.

“I can do it. I know the way.” Red sat up straighter to show she wasn’t just a small pup anymore.

“Very well. I’m concerned about Grandma Aleka too. I know she’d enjoy a visit from you.”

© Copyright 2022 L.A. Stinnett.  All rights reserved.

Cover Image © Copyright 2022 David Stinnett