Arts and Witchcrafts is open to any submissions be it poetry, recipes, stories or anything else that springs to your mind. If you’re interested in submitting a piece contact Saffron Foxclaw or Tara de Barbarac
This week’s submission seems to be a short tale submitted anonymously.
A boy with horns sleeping in a glass coffin. A faery whose weeping is so sad you feel as though you are drowning in sorrows, tears roll down your face, your breath comes out in choking gasps. A manic pixie who feeds on adoration. A Summer girl with vines which threaten to strangle you. A girl with hooved feet and a back so hollow you fear you’ll fall into the abyss. Raven feathered warrior women who pluck out the eyes of their foes. Rowdy boys with sneers and lions’ feet. And a girl whose song comes when death approaches and whose scream could break a mortal mind.
These are the things you’ll find when you venture out too far. Wandering about the Scottish lands without remembering to put your clothes wrongside out. But the worst of these without a doubt is the Lady of the Pure.
Brandishing her power, she enslaved them all. Allies left uninformed, ignorant to this blight. Though time passed and views have changed, the Lady of the Pure sought to bring down all of those, gifted more than she. A beast of leather and law with a temper and no remorse, the Lady was a foe not to be taken lightly. In her head she had it all, planned it to a t. The War of Blood she sought to bring, tearing down them all.
Those of fur and those of feather, those of magic all around brought tooth and talon, wand and fang to bear against one another. Spurred on by fear and rules and hate, they began to grow tense. But as with all such tales, evil wasn’t to win. Beast and creature, pure and mud, when loss was suffered by them all, came together against the Lady.
In three fell swoops the Lady fell and her rule came to an end. And beast and pure were once again made to be friend.