Disgust replaced desire.
“Amm,” shaded Cerrune, fear deepening his range.
The assistant had knelt by the Black Veil, turning the woman’s head, his own colors reflecting shock.
Amm looked at Cerrune but didn’t let her range rise and color her skin. She stared at him mutely, not having the courage to ask about Ferr. She didn’t want to see the answer. Didn’t want to dwell on the fact that Ferr’s apricot range had not swirled into the air with the rest freed from the Black Veil.
Then she turned and left, knife still in hand, and headed south-southeast, content with being only a dark blurry amber. Content with the vibrant ceruleans and silvers and apricots and roses and crisp green grasses being left to others.
Hoping that one day Cerrune would follow.
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Marie Croke is a fantasy writer living in Maryland with her fiancé, son and daughter, all of whom like to scribble messages in her notebooks when she’s not looking. She won first place in the Writers of the Future Contest and has work published in Daily Science Fiction. For more information go to mariecroke.com.
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COVER ART
“Remember,” by Zsófia Tuska
Beneath Ceaseless Skies
ISSN: 1946-1046
Published by Firkin Press,
a 501(c)3 Non-Profit Literary Organization
Copyright © 2012 Firkin Press