writing – Kenzie Leong's Creations

Flowers for the Pyre (3/4)

Yin followed the path up the mountain until, eventually, there was no real path anymore. Her only guide for climbing safely was the odd deer trail cutting through the undergrowth, but eventually she was left clambering over bare rock again. Clouds gathered overhead; eventually she climbed high enough for the lowest ones to dampen her hair. The air smelled of the coming spring rain.

That was good, on most days. The mountain would need rain, if it was going to replenish the flowers on Kaveh’s pyre.

By the time she reached the cloud-crowned peak, a comfortable ache had set into her limbs, offset by the cold, wet air. Her arms rippled with gooseflesh.

Standing at the top of the mountain she called home, Yin turned her single eye toward the gathering rainclouds, and called for her mother.

Flowers for the Pyre (1/4)

Kaveh woke with a sniffle, and knew it was nearly time.

Over the course of the night, Yin had migrated to the middle of the bed and wrapped around him like a snake, as usual. With practiced ease, Kaveh coaxed his pillow into his place in her arms, and slipped out into the quiet beyond their bed.

Cassius’s shoes and walking-stick were gone. There was no surprise there—Cassius grew restless and irritable the longer he stayed indoors. He’d insisted on sleeping under the stars at first, until a spider had crawled into his bedroll in the night and reminded him that being inside had its advantages.

Gracious Hosts (3/3)

Rahim had been little more than a boy, the first time he laid eyes upon a fairy. He’d been sitting beneath his favorite tree, an elm with ample shade not far from the home where his parents raised him. From early childhood to later youth, he had sat beneath it to read and write, until the day a deer with leaves and blossoms growing from its antlers stepped out from behind it, gazed at him for a moment, and began to walk deeper into the woods

Rahim had followed it, fool that he was, until a chorus of chittering laughter reached his ears. A crowd of fairies had crawled and slithered from the carpet of loam, grasped his clothes, and pulled him deeper into the darkness. A mortal! they had laughed. Come, come with us and serve, our lady has use for your long legs and strong back. Then one unlucky fairy had reached his hand, and found the cold iron rings on his fingers. Rahim had stumbled back onto the road in a daze, to find that night had fallen and he was very hungry.

He was not that foolish boy anymore. Against his own will, he was both a warrior and a king, with hundreds of subjects turning out to celebrate the birth of his first child. But as he watched Lady Eisendusk step into the town square like a shadow to join them, he felt suddenly very small and cold and hungry again.

Gracious Hosts (2/3)

Asha’s father was a wiser man than Rahim’s grandfather had been. Rather than resting his fate on the patronage of one of the continent’s fair-weather kings, he’d kept his business to himself, constantly on the move whenever another warlord crested the horizon. A lack of permanent roots had been a small price to pay for deep pockets. Rahim had been a scholar with a decent mind for numbers when Asha married him.

And now here he was, another fair-weather ruler with a storm on the horizon.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

He wasn’t sure who he was addressing—Asha reading a letter in her favorite chair, Mama with her needle letting out one of Asha’s gowns, Baba lightly napping by the window, or Freda, the midwife’s daughter, humming as she swept.

High School Time Travelers, Part 2

“So. Spill. What the fuck is going on with you and Angelique?”

Raph fidgeted uncomfortably, and something within Erin roared out in protest at that. They were in her room, surrounded by her clutter and band posters and the stuff he kept at her house to keep his mom from throwing it away. He wasn’t supposed to be uncomfortable here.

Eventually, he took a deep breath. “I time-traveled last night.”

“I’m serious—”

“So am I,” he said wearily. “I woke up in a house I haven’t set foot in for years, across the hall from someone I promised myself I’d never talk to again. It happened, and if you’re stuck on that part then this conversation can’t continue.”

Spun Fur and Buneiform

It wasn’t the end of the world. Maybe if this place was my livelihood I’d start panicking or packing up, but it’s not. I’m a vet, I own my own home, and I’m not hurting if my vegetables get looted. The garden’s a hobby at best, and yeah, maybe it was Grandma’s pride and joy, but I warned her I killed my mom’s geraniums when she told me she was leaving me the house, so it’s not like she has room for disappointment.

If anything, the rabbits are lucky they picked my land to figure out civilization on, because I’m pretty sure my neighbor Carl would be dropping dynamite down the burrows in my shoes.