It’s Halloween! For any new readers, we tend to put all the normal stories on hold for our annual look into the lives of Fiona Hart and/or the Cursed Man. For fun. Starting at the beginning may or may not be helpful (At this point who’s to say). Enjoy, DD Early morning in the city….
We are back to that time of year again when you can never-ever trust what is on the internet. Just kidding– That’s all year! Never-ever trust what is on the internet. No joke. I know, what a terrible day to say, ‘no joke’ and expect someone to listen to you. April Fools– go!! ty, DD…
His life had changed again. He thought that at some point he would be used to it. Maybe take it in stride. Like a boxer getting punched in the face; eventually they would become accustomed to the punishment. This was an assumption. Honestly, he was no boxer. He had been hit though. And chased, cursed,…
It was a shock to the system, going from the lush jungle of some nameless world where the howls that filled the night air were that of predators, twenty times the size of modern man, just to find oneself kerplunked right back from where she started. Fiona Hart’s ghostly blue hands gripped the bars before…
Or so the Muses Claim by David C. Daoust All the Worlds of the Muses tend to be the same. The ins and outs of life are repeated, the stories, the lives, it’s been rolled round and round… reused, reiterated. New visions that have no idea they are being reflected from the old. The same…
The small leather laden blond gripped down tight on the voluminous mane before her, straddling the beast as it charged through the foliage just outside the Witch Queens Palace. A mass of twisted goblin fiends, thwarted jailors, gave chase– clawing at the ground, scraping and scurrying! Trying to grasp their prey before they got too…
Hear tell the tale of the muses, a tale they’ll love to tell if you’re one to listen– A tale of a small pack of ancient wolves that used to roam the lowlands. Lands that were known to fill with a blanket of mist, so thick, one could not see their own hand in front…
Mya, the Cursed World by David C. Daoust She was running again. For someone made to be so strong, it seemed like Fiona Hart was always just cutting loose and flat-out running away. The pale blue, ghostly girl slid, bodily, over the tiles that covered the roof; her foot slipped a little too close to…
Will they/Won’t they by David C. Daoust The sun still shone from the heavens as the small girl in the pink dress approached cast iron gates; Gates that sealed away many a great secret, and held within her salvation. Salvation from what was to come when the sun finally sank beneath the horizon and the…
It’s Halloween! One last look into the madman’s end; reader discretion is advised! Looks like my link to the ‘Halloween Special’ thread had been broken for a while now. If you have not read the previous two posts, you may want to start at the beginning. ( some of the tidbits within this one will…
>>> I seem to be backed up on the image department this week. I totally rushed this image in twenty minutes… Oh and Happy Halloween! ty, DD<<<< by David C. Daoust She was a wisp of a girl. She wore her blonde hair short, above her shoulders. The little pink dress that covered her alabaster…
>>> So, here we are again, Halloween! The axe murdering witch hath returneth… so um, reader discretion is advised. ty, DD
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((This is my Halloween ghost story, complete with a horrible lesson buried within. It has ghosts,demons, and even an axe murdering witch, cuz, you know… It’s Halloween!! Reader discretion is advised!You’ve been warned! Enjoy!)) ABSENCE By David C. Daoust Often, she would spend her time going through the things she missed most. And not just…