Free Story Friday: Truly Hunter!

This work is part of a blog exchange. I wrote a piece, called the Heist, for the wonderfully talented Truly's blog. Now enjoy the story and the picture she made special for you!


This piece has been written in conjunction with the creation of my painting, Crystal Candles. The image I created is an attempt to visually represent the magic and wonder I feel when writing prose based in the fantasy world Chrystalis, which I have imagined and created for my fictional works. Many stories have already and have yet to be discovered inside of this world – this is just a small piece of the unique trials and adversity that the people of Chrystalis face.


On the night of the Tempest Moon, the sky blazes with twisted nebulas. Witches burn crystal candles in the borealis trees, the branches gnarled and hardened, and dripped with white wax. The Soul Crystals cast a silvery blue hue over everything in sight as they sit upon their wax thrones preparing for their nightly performance. Alive with the magic of spirits long passed, the crystals pulse like a heartbeat. Their cool glow is an aria of purity, and it protects all those who will listen from corruption and greed. Shadows dance across the ground and the sky, each one stretched in harmony with the sway of the strong branches in the heavy winds. The Crystals watch over everything from their place among the stars, and when the time is right, they open themselves and begin their melody of aegis.
On this night, dangerous, seething magic ruptures from a crystal vein in the earth to the beat of a different drum. The dark red moon drips with energy, its requiem warm and lazy like clotted blood that weeps gradually onto the ivory keys of a concert grand. The sustained thrum of this dark magic calls to those who are not protected by the shine of souls. It sighs and groans and begs for the release of evil deeds and hurtful will. The deadly corruption warbles forth from the center of our planet, bathing the moon in its agonizing hymn of blood and torture that leaves the innocent and the mighty alike quivering in fear.

On this night, as the Witches light their crystal candles with the blessing of powerful spirits, the Soul Crystals are determined wrap their lullaby around our shoulders like a blanket of security, and ward the shadows and terror away from our hearts. These bards, one with the earth on which we walk, sing a song of harmony. Their rich, elegant voices drift down onto our doorsteps and enrapture our whole bodies as it rids of us darkness while we dream. When morning comes again, the crystal lullaby lowers to a loving whisper, and we leave our homes to make a life in company with the corruption that, while slowed in daylight, continues to ooze from beneath our feet. The crystals that created us are both our predator and protector on this night of the Tempest Moon. But our hearts are bolder with the song of the spirits lighting our path. We are safe for another year, cast in their glow.   

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