seraphian

Areé's left hand shot out to her fast approaching, unseen target, her fingers clutching a man's wrist at the precise moment he passed her. He jolted to a halt, carefully turning his eerie ice blue eyes on her without actually dragging her with and snarled. Where her fingers brushed his palm, the skin was surprisingly smooth. Areé swallowed, realizing prey caught predator. The man was a Lupus(1), and in his rage, he couldn't tell she was a Cerva(2), but he knew she was an Erant(3), like him. "What." He said, rather than asked, breaths ragged with adrenaline. Areé was surprised he didn't jerk away, but pivoted to face her. His h

N’gathma’nthe – Eldest Things (ni-gath-MON-thee) Rnsa – Mother Planet (rin-SAH) Ro – The first Male entity. Represents the Sun. (ROW) Ta – The first Female entity. Represents the Moon. (TAH) T’ka – Rhinoceros Beast. Translated, “armored ones”, tamed by Skaariinz for companions (ti-KAH) Drakaaf – Mix of Wolf, Eagle, Dragon, and Phoenix. Nearing Extinction in the modern world. (drah-KAF) Lera – General term for a race of small, peaceful creatures. (lee-RAH) Grena’h – A species of bat/bird with a wingspan of 70’. (gr-EE-nah) Dorgon – A brute form of lizard t

My ears were ringing and my eyes fluttered opened and closed. My skin felt cool and damp, the air then thick with a noxious compound I could not decipher. I could feel my heart beating in my throat.  Something dribbled out of my ear and an icy fire ran up my spine and cut out the ringing for a fraction of a second. It was cold. Warm air surged periodically over my exposed face, trailing the gaseous fumes with it. There were voices, but none could break the ringing like the pain could. My tongue felt like a log in my mouth when I tried to answer the voices that clawed at my eardrums with the persistent ringing.  I couldn&

There was a point in time where I knew what I wanted to do with my life. I think it was just yesterday, actually. The I got a good night's sleep and the sun rose. Its funny how things can literally change in the blink of an eye. Faster than you can ever hope to take a breath, it can be taken away. "It" can be anything. Therein is beauty and danger, like an exotic animal staring you down through sharp teeth and instinct to kill or be killed. That is, after all, the only way. If I don't out walk the other people moving aimlessly through Chicago with me, traffic will clip me, not them, out of existence. Simple really, kill or be killed. There's

Something in humanity makes it both beautiful and disgusting. For our society, I cannot decide the proper adjective. It horrifies and enchants me in the masses of its own complexities and awful simplicities and sinful pleasures. It seems its own paradox; perfect and destructive, too fictional to contain any hope of concrete reality. A smile purses my lips, sipping coffee, as people scuttle like programmed insects around the train station. "You a writer?" a man says, motioning at my open journal. Pause. "This is society's only truth," I say calmly, and leave him in silence. The world continues paradoxically turning.