The Peninsula

The Fiction and Poetry Archive of Liana Mir and scribblemyname

Talk About the Magic

Apr
06

Everything sounded so possible around Sarah. Little serving girls could walk in dainty shoes that didn’t hurt their feet. Monsters could be slain by magic. Becky would imagine each of the dusty, dirty clods she cleaned from behind stove or furniture as another monster to be vanquished.

In a world where magic was real and little girls were princesses, Becky herself could feel a lost princess with an inheritance of magic slippers locked in her trunk so no one could find it.

One day, the prince would come, find her in the attic tower, rescue her at last.

A Vision of Glamour

Apr
06

Melody was pleased to discover a world once denied her. She cherished it to herself, telling almost no one of the folds of ether now visible to her, the glamour she could gather in hand and take so much less than before without it disappearing into a fuzzy mass of shimmering color.

She’d never been able to see the fine details, the splendid possibilities, but now she wove over and under her fingers, tied and, breathless, laughed.

“I’ll never weave glamour like Jane,” she said, recovering, faintly wistful.

Alastar caught her hands. “She will never be like you.”

Dance of the Dragonfly

Apr
06

They call her the dragonfly. She floats across the stage, soaring into a perfect spiral, extension, the leap like magic, her trailing red and gold dress fluttering about dainty brown limbs. Emotion writ through every limb, across her face—she shines like she was made to dance and only dance.

For a moment, we are captured with her, dancing in the brightness of her motion, feeling the swell of music within our hearts. We leap, we cry as she comes to a stop and beckons; a smile invites into her stage, the flight of her spirit. We follow where she leads.