I was wandering through a forest of skeletal trees and the misty vagueness of life when the flamelight of the candle in my hand was overmatched by the dawning sun that has illuminated a once dark world.   As if my heart's compass...

Wintermorn. The sky, a muted bowl of forgotten pewter, stretches tight over the sleeping world. The air is so still, so cold, that breath crystallizes instantly, dissolving into ghost-smoke that vanishes before reaching the stars. It is the deep,...

With the anatomy of a kiss, a momentary freshnessbefore the descent. A sharp intake of breath settling in the skin, with a faint, undeniable musk of what-was. The bright, metallic ting of a scalpel, with a traceof haunting tongue.