The Tempest

The trees about Raoul start to strain on their top masts and branches. Fog flees, a great wind comes, a storm too.

Raoul continues his walk, waiting, patient. Ever aware of the menace about him. The sky about him blackens. Cold winds herald the approaching storm before him, devouring and chasing back the once settled fog bank.

Mountains now appear in the distance. He eyes the storm dancing down their peaks, dragging the the veil of night with them and...the frozen tempest coming.

Over the drone of the wind, Raoul distinctly hears the Watcher in the Woods growl, 'Raoul!'

From Guest Contributor Brett Dyer

Decision

The witch stared into the candlelight. The darkness and tempest outside would strengthen her spell, To Make Him Love You More. He wasn’t home yet, now was her chance to cast it.

The thunderbolt’s light lit up the room, and a sparkle under the bed caught her eye. Squinting, she focused on it. A shattered mirror.

“Next time, it’ll be your head.”

Her eyes widened as his harsh words echoed in her ears, and her hand froze mid-air. Without thinking, she flipped to the following page of her open spell book, To Mend Your Broken Heart.

Decided, the witch chanted.From Guest Contributor Soleah Kenna Sadge

Soleah is a fantasy writer. You can learn more about her and her writings by visiting https://linktr.ee/sksadge

OCD For PTSD

Herbert surveyed the battle raging before him. Never had he seen his living room in such disarray. The coffee table, seven degrees askew, was at war with his sofa and chaise. The casualties were everywhere, as the legroom between sofa and table had practically been murdered, and the rug underneath was suffering its death throes as it bunched up under the strain.

As heroically as Alvin York, who risked life and limb for his fellow soldier, Herbert dove into the tempest.

With the furniture righted, and the correct layout restored, Herbert knew all that would remain would be his PTSD.