Supernatural
Smoke and burning wood, spells and incantations, bonfires at midnight, fingertips touching in secret, an ancient language that nobody knows, a hex on your lover.
Sunday Chess
The strike of a match, a swirl of smoke. A chair by the morning fire. Sixty-four squares, eyes on mine. Infinity of possibility. Hands hover over the pawn. A queen-in-waiting sets her pace. Move gently in this lonely place.
The Magician
Every night he climbs the stage—a dazzling spectacle, a festival, a parade of one. The velvet curtain, a wooden stake, all of us come undone. He says: Walk with me through this tarnished world. Watch me as my heart unfurls. This is it, our magic power. This Life is Ours.
