Tiger

The sky was still black. The clouds were saturated, ready to burst.

“Like me,” he thought to himself. Thunder clapped as a bolt of white electricity struck the middle of the pond.

He kicked through the tall grass of the meadow. His soft leather boots water logged by the muddy puddles he stomped through. The rains were coming as violently as of late the rich soil was unable to contain Nature’s fury.

He was a King in the forest thusly tied as an elemental and bound to Nature. He wondered if his chaos was expressing itself in the skies above.

His ears pricked up as he heard the slapping of bare feet through puddles and mud, he wanted to smile when he heard the growl. The sound was meant to be a fierce and strong, “Grrrrrrrrrrr,” but it audibly high pitched and squeaky.

As he whipped around to face his would be predator, a blur of pale flesh wrapped his neck, a brown mane buried into his face and a white flurry of ragged fabric pounded into his chest. The beast sent him tumbling backwards into a mud puddle peppered with long green blades of grass.

He had been caught; he was the next victim of this little beast’s ravenous appetite. The Beast’s clawed hands pressed his shoulders into the wet mud. Bony shins were pinned onto his thighs.
The beast roared with a mighty squeak, “Raaaaawww!”

“What are you doing?” He giggled out.

Soft brown eyes peered into him. They were surrounded by a furrowed brow and wild unkempt brown hair. Below a scrunched nose was a mouth pulled to the cheek.

The beast was ready to bare its fangs when a long tangled lock of hair fell against its nose. She pursed her lips together blowing away the intrusion to her face. “I’m a tiger.” It’s sounded more like a shy question than a response. “I’m a tiger!” She squeaked regaining her confidence.

She leaned into him latching her teeth onto his collar bone. “I’m gonna eat you!” Her words were muffled into his shoulder. “Not a lot of meat on this one!” she hissed as if disappointed.

Her nails dug into his arms as she whipped her hair around mimicking a predator feasting on its new kill.

He was trying to hold back a giggle as she pulled back meeting his gaze again before diving toward his neck with delicate bites. “Tigers like their lunch!” Her words were breathy. He was aroused by her teeth and tongue on his neck. He was trying to fight his joy. He was supposed to be upset.

He remembered his thoughts from earlier…

“He had wanted to be inside of her but she still hadn’t figured out her body yet. She yearned for it but it would take time, if ever. That’s a lot of responsibly, he thought. “To have my boy inside me changes my world, its means I’m an adult now.”

She was making it hard from him to build a wall if ice around his heart.

Just the thought of her name could melt the ice in mere seconds. But a tiger attack?

He let out a belly laugh that shook both of their bodies. She collapsed into his chest giggling. He could no longer feel the cold water beneath him; he only felt the warmth of her heart.

Her big brown eyes looked up at him from his chest and he drew his lean arms around her.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered meekly, “I love you.”

She smiled biting into the skin of his chest, “I know”

Prince of Demons: Prologue

The once lush grass was now brown and decaying. The oak had lost is luster and its leaves had fallen in patches. The blue pond was dry replaced with crusting dried sediment.
The new found Prince surveyed the view of the meadow below him. On the hill looking into the valley he was an image of onyx, his Vice Command and consultants in tow, his vast army steadfast in the wild behind him. The cold breeze licked at the tails of his cloak.
The Prince’s irises shifted from a cool hazel into a cloudy grayish blue under the shade of his hood. He was motionless while the Vice commanders shuffled themselves for warmth behind him. His chest tightened finally letting out a condensating mist from his breath. He exhaled again through his nose, a puff of mist bellowed again. “I am dragon,” he thought to himself.
The grey of the heavy clouds coating the sky became thicker. A sharp wind ripped through the brown grass. A dying sea of his comfort seemed to roll in waves in the meadow below him. “This will be my last breath,” the dark prince thought to himself. He removed his hood slowly with his thumbs. He face was emotionless, his gaze was icy. Rarely these days was it allowed to look directly upon him. The Vice commanders averted their gazes.
“Burn it, Burn it all.”
“But Sire!” Vice commander Michekle and his once closest ally cried out, “You will lose the source!” With a quick gesture the hooded prince grabbed his neck. Michekle’s eyes went dim with the snap as his body folded to the ground. As ordered, two guardsmen presented themselves with dry wooden branches wrapped in oil cloths. The Phoenix Prince wrapped his hands tightly into the soaked cloth with his spark setting them aflame. He gripped the two burning torches with both hands before tossing them over his shoulders towards the dead meadow.
The sky became black with smoke as the flames ripped though the dead flora.
“I said burn it all…..”

Stations

One of the hardest things is being admitted to that you’ll never be good enough for someone. Being made felt blue collar. Like there is something wrong with it. Like you can’t be a prospect because that is your station even though you’ve always strived for greater with little success and much less luck. No one looks at the first year lawyer in the one room studio with mountains of debt and thinks, loser. They latch on to that train. He’s up and coming with mobility and future prospect. The retail guy? Fuck him. He’s on a train to a dead end. You can’t pay a mortgage with love. Love isn’t good enough. How can someone beneath you possibly make you better?

Stations.

Idea

“You don’t love him, you love the idea of him,” his was voice was flat and emotionless. She shuffled her bare feet on the cool stones of her bedroom floor, her toes wiggled longing for the soft nature of green grass. Was he right? She thought about the Wizard’s words. He always spoke as if his ideas were fact.

“He is only an idea, that thought gives me power.”

Prince of Demons

Icy wind ripped through his shorn speckled hair. His brown, grey locks danced as Nature’s force lapped at his temples. He eyed the path before him, once golden and sparse with silk weed and rich soil. The new path crunched under his leather boot. Ebony shale cracked as it devoured his journey. What was once beautiful and green became jagged and black. His armor gave way to the Dark. The empty void cloaked him, welcomed him into the world. The Dark clung to his skin, the silky touch comforting a newborn child. He flicked his fingers and a tiny white ember fell towards the Earth. The miniscule ball of light rolled between the cracks of the sharp stones by his heel. With a roar, the insignificant warmth ignited the shale path. Flames spewed forward, burning his journey. The forest around him cackled in laughter as it was consumed. The Phoenix had risen and everything burned.