A/N: Okay, so I tried writing a children’s novel. Or at least the beginning of one. My first try since elementary school, so let me know what you think 🙂

The day started with an impossibility and it just went down-hill from there.

RSP was currently standing in his room, heart racing and wings flapping in panic as he stared into his bedroom mirror. Staring at what he couldn’t see. His horns. The horns that he should have gotten last night, on the night of his one thousandth birthday, but which were lacking as surely as every one of his future prospects. What kind of dragon didn’t have horns?

He had to hide them. Though they never said anything, he knew his parents had to be disappointed by their only son’s utter failure as a dragon. Not only was RSP the worst flyer in his class, but his flame was so weak that it could hardly light a match. The lack of horns, however, was the worst of it all – what kind of dragon would he be without magic?

Desperately rummaging through his closet, he found a jungle hat that he‘d stopped wearing when Raoul had told him that he looked like a toddler with wings. For now RSP only cared that he looked like a dragon at all, toddler or otherwise.

Continue reading “Horns”

Specialising in the Supernatural

A/N: This piece was actually written in collaboration with Emma Bertelsen, and it is an extract from a longer novel. Or at least the extract from an idea of a novel 😉

Daniel awoke with a pounding head and a dry throat. His left arm was asleep, caused by the man currently resting his head on it. Jacob was it?

He was still asleep, thank God, and Daniel tried to remember when they’d gotten back to his apartment.

Slowly pulling his arm back, he held his breath as Jacob only reacted by rolling over in his sleep and mumbling something intelligible. Sitting up, Daniel reached over to the night stand to get the two aspirins lying there. Next to the pills lay a small bag of pixie dust that was easily hidden away in the drawer. As an extra precaution he made sure to lock it. It’d cost him a pretty sum, and Daniel was in no mood to come up with a lie to explain the shimmering powder to his current bed partner.

He should probably go through his apartment before Jacob woke up. Make sure it was completely magic-free. What a bother.

Continue reading “Specialising in the Supernatural”

Wilde Monologue

Hi guys! This weeks post is supposed to be an extract from a nineteenth century novel. I wrote it with the writing of Oscar Wilde in mind – which explains the title.

Glitter stars to whoever can guess the gender and relationship between the two.

The challenge was to write a monologue; meaning everything hereafter is only one person talking. Enjoy!

“I was happy for you – Really; I was!

No, please do not interrupt me. I know better than anyone how bad you struggled, how many obstacles you had to overcome. I know because through every single one of them I was there by your side encouraging you to go on. I laughed with you as you succeeded. And I laughed with you, when all your dreams came true.

But no more. I love you. I always have, and I always will, but I think… But I think I might love the memory of you rather than the actual person you have become. No, do not say you have not changed. Do not lie. Not to me. I have seen you change day for day; feeling powerless to stop it.

Oh, how the mighty may fall!

Are you not the proof of that? How kind you used to be when the world was tough; how generous you seemed when you had nothing. But now the world has blessed you; now you have a fortune at your disposal, and I don’t recognize you any longer; the kindness that you used to be.

Where are my friend? Did he die when your fortune was made? Did he sell his soul for your money? What an awful bargain if this is so.

I must tell you this, I must be honest, for I do not like you blessed.

I loved you, when you struggled, and I loved you when you laughed with your eyes as well as your mouth. I loved you, when you were happy in spite of everything. Now you are miserable in spite of everything, and furious with me for every breath that I take, and every beat of my heart. Do I remind you of worse times? Is that why you detest me so?

I love you, dear friend, but you have abandoned me and left a stranger in your wake, and this is why I now, in this moment, must bid you goodbye.”

May & Joe Joey Joe

In a red-bricked cottage, surrounded by a garden filled with the kind of flowers, which are to certain people commonly known as weed, a young girl was fiddling with a teapot. She was serving the tea with a kind of ease, which came through years of repetition, while simultaneously trying to read the book placed on the kitchen counter.

Still reading, the young girl finished serving her tea, before making a beeline to the most comfortable chair in the adjoined living room, levitating the tea behind her as she walked.

The living room was one of those cosy sort of places, where you immediately felt at home. Soft rugs covered the floors, comfortable chairs were placed wherever deemed suitable and there was a blazing fire in the old-fashioned fireplace, covering almost an entire wall. Boxes of chocolate and piles of books covered every suitable surface, and a smell of newly baked goods came from the kitchen.

Continue reading “May & Joe Joey Joe”