I am once again consorting with those nutty writers at AW. This month’s theme is ‘Musical Chairs Blogfest,’ in which writers tackle a genre they don’t usually write in, producing a piece of less than a thousand words.
I drew ‘Urban Fantasy,” which sent me running to Wikipedia to find out what the heck that is. According to the Wiki Article, Urban Fantasy is “ a sub-genre of fantasy defined by place; the fantastic narrative has an urban setting.”
So, without further ado, here is my attempt at Urban Fantasy. I apologize in advance to the citizens of Paris and Urban Fantasists everywhere.
* * *
Moira sat on the balustrade of Notre Dame Cathedral, her hand resting on the back of the farthest-seeing gargoyle. Its eyes blazed red as it did her bidding, searching Paris for the location of her missing son. It cast its eyes far and wide, trembling with the effort she forced from it. Finally, it rested.
“Thank you,” Moira said, soothing it back into its stony sleep.
She stood, the lights of Paris flickering below her. She took a moment to mourn the loss of her quiet life: studying and writing the history of this beloved city, nurturing her child, enjoying the relative peace. It was all over now.
He had done it again, the only one she had failed to destroy. Her husband. Her beloved, her hated, her final enemy. He waited for her. He had a plan to once again ensnare her, enslave her, using their son as bait. He thought he would succeed this time.
Moira raised her arms, cupping her hands in front of her body in supplication.
“You have unleashed The Morrigan,” she screamed into the darkness, causing the women of Paris to reach unthinkingly for their children and the men for weapons they did not have.
Blood pounded into her eyes as her body filled with the power. Rivulets of red ran down her cheeks, dripping into her cupped hands, filling them to overflowing.
“I’m coming for you, husband,” she howled, ignoring the terrified tears of children, the shattering glass, the instant plunge of Paris into dense darkness.
The Morrigan felt him thrill to her battle call. He would never change. The love and the lust and the hatred and the fear reverberated through her. She poured her blood over her head, then smeared it over her face and body. Blue-black feathers pushed through her skin. Hands turned to talons; her mouth into a cruelly-hooked beak.
She leapt from the balustrade into the darkness, an updraft catching her outspread wings and sending her soaring high above the city. She screamed into the night. Fragile buildings collapsed. The hearts of elderly people failed to beat again.
She headed west, aiming for his ancient eyes, his warm entrails, his twisted soul. One of them would die this night and, for the sake of her son, it must not be her.
The blood-lust pounded through her, driving her onwards. Oh, how she had missed the battle.
* * *
Please click on the following links to experience writers stretching their wings.
I’ll be updating the links as writers join the chain.
Week One (January 7th)
Regan Leigh’s blog , and her entry: Untitled (Horror)
Gary’s blog, and his entry: The Lake Of Hope And Sorrow (Romance)
Claire Gillian’s blog, and her entry: Call Of Duty — Mom Ops (Comedy)
Grady Hendrix’s blog, and his entry: The Three Cases Of Almanac Jones (Mystery)
Week Two (January 14th)
You are here
J. Elyzabeth’s blog, and her entry: One Night (Erotica)
Jamie’s blog, and her entry: The Bully (YA Fiction)
Cole’s blog, and his entry: The Bunker (Erotica)
Hillary’s blog, and her entry: Winter Wool (Contemporary Lit)
Week Three (January 21st)
Week Four (January 28th)
Lady Mage’s blog, and her entry: Untitled (Horror)
Ralph Pines’ blog, and his entry: Cape Canaveral (Historical)
Regypsy’s blog, and her entry: Dear Rosie (Horror)
LadyCat’s blog, and her entry: The Great Detective (Children’s)