The Starlight Ball

I have made another story uquiz because I feel it's a really fun way to write microfiction and inspire quiz takers to write their own stories!

who will dance with you at the Starlight Ball?

A ball is being held in the capital of the kingdom to honor the star-gods with music, dance, and joy. Attend this ball and find out who will ask you for the honor of a dance.

(there are 9 -gender ambiguous- options, all with a short story at the end and a small prompt to continue it if you wish so! Let me know if you do!)

the fairy queen’s heir

I have decided to (belatedly) jump in the UQuiz bandwagon and make a quiz that is also an interactive adventure!

“what did the late fairy queen leave you in her will?”

The fairy queen has recently passed away. attend her wake in her summer cottage and receive a magical inheritance based on your choices.

there are 10 options. all of them have some interesting backstory and prompts to continue the story if you so wish! 

Will delete this post later but just in case anyone was worried: I'm alright! Was promoted (yay) and work is very busy!

(also the current situation (tm) apparently has me too anxious to focus on anything that isn't fanfiction 😅 so there's that)

Sleeping Princess

“There was a king who ruled over this land. And he had two daughters, or so the story goes. One day, the youngest one fell deathly ill. It was either poison or the plague, I can never remember it very well, but that is not important. The doctors tried to save her, but she could not be cured.”

“So the eldest sister made a deal with the fairies for her sibling’s life. I think I’ve heard this one before.”

“She did. And a faerie prince agreed, asking only for a kiss in return.”

“Why a kiss?”

“Because a princess’ kiss is powerful currency among the fae. It can lift curses or be their catalyst, it can mend or break a heart, it can heal their own diseases. With a princess’ kiss, this prince could easily conquer entire nations in the fae world.”

“I’m assuming she gave it to him.”

“There was caveat. The kiss of a fae prince would make her fall into a deep sleep. So his deal was: She would kiss him, and then he would return the kiss in two years time, effectively waking her up. She still agreed. Her sister was saved and the sleeping princess was taken to the highest tower of the palace, that could only be accessed by her family or the fae prince destined to wake her. As you do.”

“Of course.”

“The next year, the war broke out.”

“The one between the fae and the humans? That one lasted more than 2 years.”

“And some would say it never ended, for anyone. But what you’re thinking is right: the prince never came back after those 2 years. He would have fulfilled his part of the contract, but he was probably killed in the war. Her family either died in the war or fled. The thing is, everyone is gone now. And she’s been there the whole time.”

“For how long exactly?”

“She has been sleeping for two thousand years.”

“That’s a nice story, but what does that have to do with us?”

The man put out his cigarette and swung his rifle over his shoulder, looking at the tower in the distance, the sole structure surviving over the ruined landscape, pitch black against the setting sun.

“Well, child, your mother was, as far as I know, the last descendant of fae royalty and one of the last of her kind. And you’re half-and-half. Hopefully that would be enough.”

They lifted their motorbike helmet and looked at their father, bewildered.

“You want me to climb the tower and wake the princess? Why?”

“Well, I feel like doing a good deed. Besides, I promised your mother I would. It was a family honor thing for her, I think.”

He lowered his own visor and started the engine.

“And if it’s just a legend and she’s not there, hopefully there will be some valuables left to take.”

And for one more night, as the sun set behind the hills, the tower’s windows lighted up. And on the branches climbing up the wall, white flowers bloomed under the moonlight.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

[if you like my writing consider buying me a coffee? your girl is saving up for the next semester, thank you ;u;]

Window Sale! Up to 80% off!

Did last week’s earthquake leave your windows shattered and your walls bare? Is your living room no longer warmed by the sun of a summer afternoon in the French countryside? Do you miss the singing of birds or the crashing of waves in the mornings?

Then don’t miss out on Martin’s Windows after-quake sale! 

Up to 80% off on genuine certificated second-hand windows. Vintage and modern! Guaranteed safe real windows and not artifically manufactured. All real, safe vistas for your home. 

Some of our personal favourites:

The marching band: Brighten up your living room with the view of a lovely town, decked with garlands. Every day at 2pm you will be delighted by a parading brass band and flower petals falling from the top floors’ windows. Blue skies assured, as well as light rains at night. 

The rose garden: Give a romantic touch to any room, with this floor-level view of an 18th century rose garden. This one comes with faint distant music, birdsong, and the year-long fragrance of flowers. 50% off if bought in a set with any other garden vista. 

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The Christmas cabin: Just in time for the season, cuddle up with a blanket and a mug of hot chocolate next to this winter landscape. Watch the snow fall endlessly and listen to the carols as the sun goes down. Silent night guaranteed with this seasonal window. 

The high seas: Not for those that suffer from sea sickness! This highly kinetic view will have you dreaming of beaing a pirate. Rolling waves, passing dolphins and seagulls, and the calming sea to lull you to sleep. 

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How to use Martin’s Windows: 

- Place gently over the wall. Do not push old windows that might have brittle glass. Make sure the view is not crooked. 

- Place with the marked side facing you. Placing a window backwards with render it unusable as anything other than a mirror. 

- Windoes can be opened safely, but please do not throw objects, food or garbage out of the windows as this can damage the view. 

- Watch for chips or cracks on the glass. If any are detected, the window must be uninstalled and brought for disposal. 

- If you notice anything weird or off with the vista, the window must be immediately uninstalled and brought for disposal. These might include:                       -Time passing too slow, fast or not at all.                       - New people in the landscape or people/figures/animals where there shouldn’t be.                       - People in the landscape looking at the window or a you or trying to interact with you.                        - Warped or unfamiliar sounds or voices.                        - Anything that would not happen in the real world or that goes against any natural law.                        - As we put it: “if the sky is a void, your guarantee is too!”

- If a window is broken, do no try to fix it yourself. Fixing a window counts as creating a new one, and this is not only dangerous but goes against federal law. 

Remember: Accept only authentic, second-hand, real windows. Manufacturing artificial windows, recycling damaged ones, or owning any of these is punishable by law. Manufactured and/or recycled windows have been proven as unsafe and unreal. Protect yourself and your loved ones from harm. Real means life. Artificial means death. 

[if you like my writing consider buying me a coffee? your girl is saving up for the next semester, thank you ;u;]

In which Icarus is enamored not with the Sun, but with the void between the stars

“And remember, when you go into light speed do not fly to close to the suns, as their gravitational force will pull you into a fiery death.”

Daedalus hands his son the backpack with supplies. In the horizon, another comet falls. Closer this time. Close enough to make the ground tremble. It is time to leave the colony. Icarus steps into his ship and puts his hands on the controls. Daedalus can see how insecure they are but they do not have time to spare. 

“But do not fly too far away from them either, or you will fall off the edges of space.” 

Those are his final words to his son as another comet grazes the nearby mountain and he runs towards his own ship. 

Icarus has never left the planet where he was born. He follows th trail left by his father’s ship and when they leave the atmosphere, his hands freeze over the controls as he looks back at his home. 

At the red sun setting in the distance.

The seas, the mountains, the smoke from the impacts, tinted rose. 

And over his head, the stars like he has never seen them before. The constellations laid in front of him clearer as ever. Milions of other suns, of other galaxies. 

And between them, a rich black velvety ocean. So horribly empty, so full of wonder. Calling like a siren song. He thinks that if the gods have their home in this world, it must be there. 

Daedalus’ ship picks up light speed. He has already programmed the calculations on his son’s ship. All he has to do is press the button. Yet when he arrives at the quadrant, Icarus is not behind him. But he waits. Surely Icarus-

changes the calculations, and he clumsily steers the ship. He aims for the patch of darkness between three stars. And he jumps to light speed. 

As the lights flashing on the sides of his ship start going out and as the ship plunges into the darkness, his hands are firm on the controls. 

Icarus does not feel like he is falling off the edge of space. 

He is rising.

[if you like my writing consider buying me a coffee? your girl is saving up for the next semester, thank you ;u;]

Cycle

The public execution was to be shown in TV. 

The young girl, the terrorist, the head of the small revolution was brought forward, still cursing and spitting the name of the Leader. 

During the past few hours, people had followed the news, with a small spark of hope in their chests. Only or it to be snuffed once again. She was not the first. 

She might as well be the last. 

Just as the shot was called, my mother rested one hand on my shoulder. 

“That girl was your sister.”

The plain statement rang in my head louder than the shot. I remember not being able to react for several minutes.

Of course, she later explained that she hadn’t told me before for my own safety. She feared I might follow her and end up like everyone who did. She had not spoken to her for many years herself.

She was not the first.

I could count at least three assassination attempts to the current Leader on the time I had been alive. My mother could count nine. Every single one of them got incredibly close to their goal. Every single one of them had failed at the last moment. With every attempt, people became complacent and lost a bit more of hope that this regime would be over one day. This one had just been the desperate attempt of my sister and four other people. Just four.

But she would not be the last.

Yes, I had never known her, but I refused to believe that she had died for nothing. That she was just gone, with no trace of her in this home or anywhere.

I will not let her be the last glimmer of hope.

That is why I’m writing this note.

I will not disclose any details. I will keep the number and the identity of the people that are with me a secret. For their safety, should the worst come to pass.

If the worst does come to pass, I hope this note serves as a legacy to leave behind me. But I wish that, rather than a legacy, my legacy would be freedom.

The young girl, the terrorist, the head of the small revolution was brought forward, still cursing and spitting the name of the Leader. 

During the past few hours, people had followed the news, with a small spark of hope in their chests. Only or it to be snuffed once again. She was not the first. 

She might as well be the last. 

Just as the shot was called, my mother rested one hand on my shoulder. 

“That girl was your sister.”

The plain statement rang in my head louder than the shot.

The execution had been the same day I had found the note hidden under a tile in my bedroom. Of course, my mother explained herself, but I was no longer listening to her as the reality rained upon me.

The reality of this cycle that had probably gone on for years. The reality of how people had been kept complacent and hopeless. The reality of not really knowing who I am, of if I’m even human, or if my memories are real.

I thanked my sister (it felt right that she was my sister) for this truth. This truth she didn’t even learn of before her death. I thanked her for giving me this autonomy.

And only one choice remained: break the cycle or keep weaving it?

I thought about it for days. What looked like an easy decision at first really wasn’t.

Break the cycle and no one would ever try again. My sister’s death, my sisters’ death, would have been in vain. But it would be my choice.

Fight again, rebel again, and I would probably suffer the same fate as my sisters. And it would be yet another blow to the people’s hopes.

But it would be my choice.

And I guess I was literally born to try again.

[if you like my writing consider buying me a coffee? your girl is saving up for the next semester, thank you ;u;]

Summer Feelings

1. Laying down on your bed, basking in the sun with the window open. The silent streets. The chirping of birds.

2. A kiss at the pier. The taste of cherry lip balm. Wondering if you will ever see her again. 

3. Walking through the deserted town at midday. The scorching sun at the top of the sky. A melting lemon ice cream. 

4. Sleeping under a tree at the apple orchard, listening to the rustling leaves. Feeling safe even if for a moment. 

5. The silent, deserted streets. The whisper of leaves. 

6. Riding the roller coaster until you feel sick. Then riding it again. 

7. Long treks through the forest. Fireflies and wet socks. It will be night soon. 

8. The drive-in theater. Dry lips from the popcorn. Your fingers covered in dust from the car you’re sitting on. 

9. Laying on the grass of the backyard at night. You wish there was water in the swimming pool. You wish there were stars in the night sky to look at. 

10. Long car rides. The taste of soda from a gas station. The whispers are closer. The wind in your hair as you speed through the empty highway. 

11. Summer storms. Wait inside until they are over. Do not make juice with the lemons from the tree that was struck by lightning. 

12. You wonder where she is now, if she is still somewhere. The taste of cherry lip balm on your dry lips. 

13. Missing your friends. The ones that tried to go back home. The ones you left behind. 

14. The empty street. The silent, deserted towns. The whispers. 

                       The chirping of birds.

[if you like my writing consider buying me a coffee? I’ve recetly moved to the UK to live with my partner and we just moved houses and would really appreciate it ;u;]

On Uncommon Types of Mermaids (Excerpt)

(Extracted from the article “On Uncommon Types of Mermaids” by Eliza Archer, published on the Journal of the National Cryptozoological Institute in 2015)

Both in legend and historical records, the figure of the mermaid is present, either as a legend or as a historical account. Sea and river mermaids are the most commonly known types, but there is little scientific input on other, less common, kinds of mermaid.

[...] With this work, we intend to bring attention to the most uncommon species of mermaid across the world and the dangers they entail. The aim of this article is merely communication and information and it does not constitute a safe guide to deal with or study mermaids.

Groundwater mermaids

Swimming pool mermaids

Blood mermaids

[if you like my writing consider buying me a coffee? your girl works night shifts (and is a lil broke at the moment) ;u;]

An offering to the stars

Her feet barely touch the ground as she is dragged across the spaceship’s floor.

The crewmembers form a corridor around her and she can hear the hymns they’re singing. She can see the tears falling across their cheeks and how they look at her with adoration. Some of them have been woken from cryostasis just for this.

The ship has been stuck for seven months between two systems, its solar sails darkened. The crew has raised prayers to the dots of light in the distance, asking for just some more light. A distant supernova. A small solar flare. Anything that can save them from the dark between the stars.

And now is the moment of the offering.

When the girl recognizes her mother’s face among the crowd, she gathers enough strength to try and break free from the grip on her arms.

“Mother! Mother!”

Smiling, the woman approaches her and places a crown of fabric flowers (she can recognize the color of her own uniform in them) on her hair. After kissing her forehead, she lets the guards continue dragging her towards the airlock chamber.

Defeated, the girl does not listen to the words of the priest waiting for her, and she barely feels the sacred oil smeared on her forehead.

She knew this could happen and she knew she was one of the candidates. Back then, she did not mind. She could one day be her family and crew’s only hope, their savior. It was a great honor and it is not as if she had many options to say no. Maybe she had not considered the consequences. Maybe she had not expected this happen.

But, as she is thrown into the airlock chamber, she realizes she is not ready at all. And, as she sees the glass pane close between her and the crew, she realizes how scared she is.

Screaming for help, she hits the glass door with all her strength. The crew does not listen to her, kneeling in prayer. She hits the glass again, knowing she is not going to dent it. She screams, knowing no one is going to listen.

She knows the prayer by heart. As the end of it approaches and the priest turns to the guards, she begs her mother for help one last time.

And the lock opens to the void.

The first thought in her mind is how strange it is to see the stars with her very own eyes and not through a window.

Then she feels her skin freezing.

And she feels her lungs burning.

And then the stars disappear.

When she opens her eyes she no longer feels cold. She realizes the burn in her chest does not come from her collapsing lungs, but from something burning within her.

Around her, she can see the faraway stars once again. And inside of them, other women, with halos of light surrounding their heads.

The crew got what they asked for.

She lets the star within her chest grow, she lets the fire born from helium and hydrogen run across her arms and around her body, creating a mantle of light.

Their prayers were heard.

The system has a new star.  And the spaceship is too close to even attempt to flee.

The solar sails shine bright for a second before they burn.

[if you like my writing consider buying me a coffee? your girl works night shifts (and is a lil broke at the moment) ;u;]

[This is the first short story for a zine a friend and I are planning, keep your eyes peeled =)]

Another kind of creature dwells in this forest

Take care when crossing the forest, son.

You should not fear the wolves, for they are harmless if you don’t listen to their words. Nor should you fear the fae, as you already know how not to fall in their traps and your father has taught you how to barter with them.

Another kind of creature dwells in this forest.

Long ago we tried to trap them behind stone walls, but they always broke free of their prisons. Admitting defeat, we sent them to the forest, hoping they would be devoured by the wild beasts. But they thrived.

You see, they can talk to the wild animals and make them do their bidding.

Do not bother with your sword. Blades have drawn their blood, water has closed over their heads, and smoke filled their rooms, yet they always come back from the dead.

Some say they never die, but rather slip into a peaceful sleep and wake up as you would with the song of birds.

We tried leaving poisoned food to keep them away from our homes, but the most lethal of poisons just leave them unconscious for a few days.

Men have tried to hunt them for the jewels that fall from their mouth when they speak, but it’s not worth it. They forget some of them can call forth venomous reptiles from between their lips.

Take care when crossing the forest, son. Do not fall for their tricks! Their singing voices are enchanting and will lure you directly to their lair.

They can dance for days and never get tired, do not think you can outrun them.

Their hair is golden thread and they always look innocent and angelic, clad in silk dresses, with rose petals in their hair and the smell of lilies heralding their presence. If you come across a beautiful woman in the woods, do not take her hand.

Do not believe her promises of love, wealth, and power.

If you value your life, never fall in love with them. A kiss is the source of their power.

Take with you this cursed needle, and this poisoned comb. Take the thorny stem of this rose. Stay in the path, stay quiet. Do not whistle or sing a song.

Take care when crossing the forest, son.

For it is where the princesses dwell.

[if you like my writing consider buying me a coffee? your girl works night shifts (and is a lil broke at the moment) ;u;]

Judgement Day

We both sat on the hill overlooking the town, staring at the horizon as the stars turned a furious bright red.  We should probably have weeks before but was there really a place to go?

A figure stood behind the mountains, much, much taller than them. It had six arms and was covered in golden eyes and feathers so bright they were almost blinding. A halo as big as the town surrounded its head.

My grandmother adjusted her glasses and squinted at the paper in her hand and back at the mountains.

“It doesn’t look much like the holy card.”

[if you like my writing consider buying me a coffee? your girl works night shifts (and is a lil broke at the moment) ;u;]

After Swan Lake

But what happened to Odile? 

What happened to her after the prince ran after his dying Swan Queen?

The music stops with a shriek. The prince –your fiancé– runs after the reflection in the window. For a second, everyone stands in silence, in the candle-lit room.

The king opens his mouth to call the guards after his song, but his order falls silent as he lays his eyes on you. As the whole court lays their eyes on you.

You are not dancing anymore. And with Rothbart gone, the spell is broken. All in the ballroom can see your empty red eyes, no white, just a glossy black pupil in a sea of blood red. The dark mane of feathers coming out of your head, your arms, your face. Your neck is too long. Your smile –permanently on your face– too sharp and unsettling. You are neither a human nor a swan. Even though you look basically identical, your twin is beautiful and angelic (in the way that she is both terror and beauty) but you look like a prototype, a hastily sewn-together doll.

Before they can do anything, you start dancing again. You glide on your feet, leaving a trail of black feather in your wake. And the enchantment is back. The party goes on. Everyone drinks, laughs, and looks at you in awe.

The dawn arrives and the prince is not back. Neither is Rothbart. Neither is the Swan Queen.

Not that anyone cares.

But what are you to do? You are a homunculus with a clear mission: dance, make the prince fall in love and swear eternal, true love to you.

So you keep dancing. You are not real, and you never get tired or hungry. They do, but they do not notice. The champagne evaporates from their glasses. The apples shrivel and the honeyed grapes rot. The court falls to the ground one by one. The music stops. After a while, they start rotting too.

The people of the kingdom come to the palace to see what has happened. They suffer the same fate, the rest learn. 

After a while, you are dancing among sun-yellowed bones and the curious animals that dare get close to the palace. Fawns wander through the halls and moths flutter around you as you dance. Never swans. You wonder what happened to your sisters: if they drowned in the lake of tears, if they became human, if arrows brought them down. 

The forest is considered haunted. The palace is known as the Music Box.

If your twin was a queen and she is dead (you overthrew her), you guess that makes you the new queen. Even if it is of this court of ghosts.

One day, many many years later, a woman opens the palace gates. She is wearing rich and sturdy travel clothes and holding a crossbow, which she immediately lowers the moment she sees you dancing.

As it has happened many times before, your spins are vertiginous, your feet almost soar over the dusty tiles and bones, and she is awestruck. Still, she leaves the crossbow on the floor and steps down the staircase towards you. This has never happened ever since the prince danced with you many nights ago.

The woman steps next to you and follows your dance. She complements your movements and you both move across the floor like flowing water. You spin between her hands and let her raise you over her shoulders. For the first time in your life, you feel out of breath.

When you stop (the first time you stop in hundreds of years) she does not back away horrified, she kisses your hand.

She tells you she is the princess of the neighboring kingdom. She was curious about the haunted forest and the Music Box and came here to hunt. Instead, she has the honor of meeting the queen of the forest.

You’re beautiful, she says. I love you.

Her cohorts follow her into the palace and they are told to remove the bones, the dust and the creeping blood ivy.

Days later, her family and court arrive in white boats sailing across the lake of tears. The music box palace is lit up and its stained glass windows shine like a jewel. Music and the sweet smell of fruits fill the ballroom again. The moths flutter among the chandeliers.

The feathers covering your body still look, appropriately, like an obsidian-bejeweled dress. You your moves and dance are graceful and sharp as you are presented before the court.

Then, as the clock strikes twelve, the princess swears true love to you and asks you to marry her.

Tears fill your eyes for the first time as you nod. She holds you in her arms and places a kiss on your lips, and the magic happens.

White feathers start sprouting from her arms and shoulders and cover her hair. Her neck elongates, and her lips and eyes turn as black as your feathers. With a flap, her white-feathered arm extends in perfect contraposition with yours.

“Keep playing.” you say, and your voice croaks through the room, which is soon filled with the nervous sound of music again.

Your mission is fulfilled, and you are finally free. After all, you were born from Rothbart’s magic. You were supposed to be your twin’s opposite. No one ever said the rules would be the same. You have no need to be human. Your fate is not drowning to death in tears.

And now the forest has two terrible, terrible Swan Queens.

[if you like my writing consider buying me a coffee? your girl works night shifts (and is a lil broke at the moment) ;u;]

Goals: reached

(I love these kind of videos so this is really exciting haha)

Story here