The clatter of bones from beyond the mounds told me I wasn’t the only bipedal creature headed somewhere. The further I went, the more quiet the ravens with me, and the more heavy the air was. This was definitely a formal affair I was going to. If I wasn’t already in the Boneyard, I’d say I was headed for someone’s funeral.

There were more ravens than bones. A few turned to watch me approach, pass, and depart. Most were staring at a fixed place. Just before I made the last turn, the ravens pulled me to a full stop. I understood. It was not time for my entrance just yet. I heard a commotion around the bend. The sound of someone weeping. A scuffle. A sharp cry. Silence.

3,231 words. Viewer discretion is advised.

“What the fuck was that?” My voice was mine, but it sounded distant. He splashed a hand in joy.

“Your journey. You tell me.” His face was red from the sun, but no brightness would ever shadow his eyes.

“I… I don’t know.” I recovered my wits and smiled dangerously. “Show me again.”

1,119 words.

“But it… this particular spirit, this espirito, reached out to you personally, based on blood?” He touched the screen and scrolled through the data. The tablet responded normally. “What’s left to do?”

618 words.

“Is that all it takes to make you think you are worth something to me?” Kir regarded me with kir large eye. “I use you. I taught you how to use this place, for what you cast off feeds my plants. Even now, as you are lying there on the stone, my plants take from you. How do you know I don’t regard you as an intelligent pet?”

Ouch. “I… don’t.”

1,789 words.

A few folks from the table behind me not so gently nudged me forward. “Now, you be a good girl, probably for the first time in y’life, and come up here and kiss my glass for good luck. Don’t worry about keeping up with us. We gotta worry ’bout keeping up with you.”

I came up and took his glass. I planted a big kiss on the side of it, knowing damn well that wasn’t what he meant. I winked at him and smiled. He laughed heartily. I took a sip. The tub liquor burned down my throat and made my heartflame rage.

811 words.

It was a short pause, but it was long enough for me to completely regain my composure. “I don’t have any sway in the Pop Culture Paganism wars. I’ve been silent intentionally. Not my monkey, not my circus. Two of you know exactly where I am about this.” I released my grip on the cup. My flash of anger was over. I’ll be okay.

Chuckles reached out and patted my hand. “We know. But you’re going to start seeing fallout soon.”

1,500 words.

I lie. And this time, I lied at the wrong time and with the wrong words. Y’all know I fudge some things because I don’t have leave to make certain things public. I have a mea culpa to admit to, and a correction to post.

253 words.

The box was waiting for me at the lair. Snake was not amused by its presence. It trembled every now and then from something within. “Livestock? Here? At least the wyrm is taking care of itself, but a chicken?”

I opened the cardboard box to find just that. A black chicken. It looked up at me and clucked. It didn’t try to leave the box. It just sat there, watching me. A tag was loosely hanging around its neck. “Hold me.”

703 words.

Restless again. In the Nagalands again. The flowers still adorn the boulder, but they are faded and wilting. A breeze stirs around me, dense with the promise of sweeping the flowers off so I may have a place to sit. I shake my head and scoot a nudged flower back in place. So much in my Waking life is thrown away for the sin of being blemished. The flowers are still fragrant, the garlands still intact. I don’t need to sit there.

736 words.

This entry is going to meander through Waking space for a bit. There is only one dream in this entry, short and devoid of colorful scenery. But it is enough. Very much enough.

1,062 words.