AMELIA: OR THE FAITHLESS BRITON. "An original novel, founded upon recent facts." The Columbian Magazine, Philadelphia, 1787. THE revolutions of government, and the subversions of empire, which have swelled the theme of national historians, have, likewise, in every age, furnished anecdote to the biographer, and incident to the novellist. The objects of policy or ambition… Continue reading Amelia; or, The Faithless Briton (1787)
Two children search for ferns on Jāņi Night.
"I can not." The woman declared, shaking her head, slick red locks swirling like ethereal worms. "Can not... or will not?" The shaman pressed, narrowing his dark, grey eyes, which shimmered like boiling water, full up with the light of the midday sun. "I will not." "It is my right, as it is thy duty,… Continue reading The Seal Maiden & The Spirit Cage
I awake on a cold slab, with a cool draft passing over my bare chest soaked in frigid sweat. Only the faint glow of a brazier with lowering embers lights the chamber. I sit up. “You won.” Says the Warlord, his gravelly voice echoing in here. He sits in a throne-like chair on a stone… Continue reading The Warlord (Part 3)
As I wake, the Warlord and his demoniacs stand over me in a warm tent with animal-skin walls that stretch taut with the impact of sub-freezing winds. “You are lucky to survive the venom of a witch’s blade.” the Warlord tells me. “Making the Pact very likely saved you. The Dark Powers would rather you… Continue reading The Warlord (Part 2)
~8~ The Seeds Begin to Sprout The day dawned just like any other in the slow march toward the spring planting season: the worker bays plowed the paths, the geese set to indolent trumpeting until food arrived, the hoofed creatures meandered about the snow covered paddocks they had claimed as their own, and the clerk… Continue reading The Farm and the Forest (Part VIII)
~7~ Spring Is Coming “Do you know of the Forest, dog?” The battered orange tabby lay pooled in a furry puddle atop the kennel where the despondent matronly German Shepherd lay. It was still cold and snow stood heaped in mounds, cast to the side by the older worker bays who dutifully plowed the paths… Continue reading The Farm and the Forest (Part VII)