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Literature
The Faerie Tree
The Faerie Tree
Birrie
"Oh Jaesythe, oh Jaesythe, won't you let me come in?" Cerise hovered, as was proper, in front of her cousin's birrie.
A voice from inside called, "What is it fair cousin? Tell me what thou seekest, and I shall help thee in it."
No welcome. Well that aroused her suspicions —not that she'd been free of them before she came. Her gossamer wings fluttered fast, keeping her aloft. The birrie —suspended from mid-way up this great oak tree between two stout branches, was very substantial. it was probably strong enough to hold a human —fairies of course had hollow bones in order that they might fly —which meant that birries could easily hold their weight. They were of course wood fairies, and very good ones too.
Jaesythe's birrie rocked alarmingly. What was her cousin doing in there?
Hamlet
It was just another ordinary day. The cocks announced the coming of dawn; farmer Stephan let out his cattle,
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Back-Cover-CWG-2015 by TPArchie Back-Cover-CWG-2015 :icontparchie:TPArchie 0 0 Front-Cover-CWG-2015 by TPArchie Front-Cover-CWG-2015 :icontparchie:TPArchie 1 1
Literature
The Human Hunters
5 - Through Dark Arbores
Wind.
Soughs of a cold, dreary night. Antlered trees reach bared branches to the sky. A rustle of leaves betrays a ground burrower, come to investigate a slumbering form.
A faint change.
To the colours of night? The airs of this bleak wood? A scent of predation. A premonition of fear.
Scuttle back to the safety of ground. Dig deep.
*
In the distance a quiet absence of sound that drifts closer.
Flit here and there; soft, silent, deadly.
Dark shadows; sliding, slithering over grass and fern; hidden by a nearly new moon.
See the trees. Watch the trunk grow lean carapace covered limbs. Branches moving, not with the wind but lean and taut. An unleashed hunter.
Stealthy.
Precise.
Raptor-like.
Glide through dark arbores.
Closer.
Closer.
Tower, tower above.
The body below lies still and small, insensate. No longer alone.
Lie still slumbering form, if you can. Breathe in. Breathe out. Calm your ragged breath. Hide behind that plastic sheet so carelessly
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Mature content
The Human Hunters :icontparchie:TPArchie 0 0
Literature
The Human Hunters
3 - Evanescent
"Here."
He stumbled to a halt. Pain jagged through arm to shoulder. Pulsing agony. Each breath a rasping file through dry throat.
Sweat leavened brow and lip.
Left arm shaking; hand quivering.
He tried to take the proffered tube.
"Oh goodness Joe!"
Exasperation. She moved to him. Reached forward.
Her scent. Her odour. An intoxication. Had he never smelt a woman before?
Rough words, gentle touch. Silky. Smooth like a mother's caress, she squeezed the contents into his mouth. A taste like the distant scent of fresh grown grass and then he felt it.
A surge. A smooth rush of comfort flowing and speeding through him.
And relaxed.
The shock moved away.
Displaced. Pushed to one side. She packed the emptied tube carefully away. Then sighed. A dirtied hand smeared a dirty brow. A hint of tiredness in her eyes.
"Joe."
He smiled at that name. A dreamy, happy smile. Was that his name?
"Joe, listen to me."
Concentrate. Concentrate. How far on were they? He tried to f
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Literature
The Human Hunters
2 - Contact
Clouds drifted across a Pennsylvanian sky. A gentle breeze blew its continental breath from the West. Intermittent woodland was scattered about. Trees in summer, branches bursting with full growth. Grassy glades, ringed with flowers.
This day it might rain. Not the harsh driving lash of sub-tropical cyclones that comes from Florida and beyond; hammering through the Appalachians. No not that, but a soft, warm rain. Mild and comforting; a balm to leaf and flower, bark and skin.
No birds in flight. Not on this moisture laden day.
Rain. Cool, cool rain to water crops, soften skin and muffle sound. Leaves rustled gently to the breeze, sighing as they shed glistening burdens that descended into rills of water. All to feed a nearby brook.
A fallen tree. A trunk. With moss'd gown and overgrown. A harbour for small life - chitinous and furred. A tiny ecosystem resting in arboreal idyll.
*
Joe looked at his arm. He grimaced. It hadn't healed. Yet. No choice but to go
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Mature content
Ice Made :icontparchie:TPArchie 0 0

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Still working on novelette: The Last Library - almost done.
I need to cut down on the writing groups; unfortunately they are addictive.
The long, long delayed CWG 2015. Yes 2015 - is close to completion. There's a long story on this but essentially I offered to help a couple around Xmas time (2016) as they'd lost contact with their resident e-publish person. The result will be 280pp A5, 36 stories and will include a couple from me; Kitten's Play and I am Xlockhh, (a 'B' movie tribute).

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TPArchie
Terence Park
United Kingdom
I write stories.
Sometimes I do art to go with them.

Here's a longer version
I write SF,Fantasy, Noir, Historical, Poetry (poetry ffs!!!) and other stuff. I've a good collection of SF & Fantasy from way back, as well as plenty of 60s & 70s Marvels and DCs.

Okay that's the interesting bit.
I do business plans, reporting systems, risk models etc for a living. my interests include the history of the Mongol period and the destruction of Golden Age Islam — nothing like studying the collapse of civilization to power space opera narratives. I like ancient things fables, folk tales, Classical Greek philosophy, Sufi teaching tales (Naqshbandia for those with that interest: big designs big plans and maybe a path)
And other stuff.
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TPArchie Featured By Owner Jul 29, 2016
This is the title story of my collection: Ice Made and other stories. I wrote this back in December 2011 as a kind of Xmas present for myself and also as an entry to the online writing group: Creative Writers on My Telegraph. They used to run a monthly competition on the blogging platform of the Daily Telegraph. The platform was switched off in June 2016 leaving the digital contents to bleed into the void of former servers.
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