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Moonlight and Merlot

August 23, 2011

The continuing saga of the lives, loves and heartbreaks of the residents of Dion Valley, CA.

As with all the best things in life, this is for adults only.


Aster floated freely through Dion Valley, little more than a bundle of energy and awareness. He was the cold pocket of air humans walked through and wondered. He was the feeling of invisible steps upon a grave. For now, he was content to watch the humans in their bars and beds, studying them as they cavorted and fought and fucked. Soon he would have to choose a form, but the more he observed, the more difficult the decision became.

Did he want to be male or female?

There were distinct advantages to both forms. Both had power that he respected. How successfully they wielded that power depended on the individual, and some achieved such greatness they were held in awe and revered and hated by those that could not manipulate their circumstances as well. Aster respected that even more.

The more he contemplated, the more he leaned toward being male. Mostly because the one whose head he had once inhabited thought of him that way and the feeling – the identity of maleness – had somewhat stuck. He thought of himself as ‘he’ and liked the way that felt. It seemed right.

Now the only thing that remained was deciding what he wanted to look like. A quick scan of the humans told him that height was revered among the males, along with physical strength and a large reproductive organ. These were easy enough things to accomplish. He supposed he needed a back-story too, an identity, but he thought that if he just said that he was ‘new in town’ that would suffice for a time, at least he until he could figure out what kind of story he wanted. Or maybe he would never need to decide. It wasn’t like he was planning on staying in this place for any length of time.

In fact, he felt that the sooner he left the better. He’d be gone now if he could, but something was holding him to this place. Not something, he amended, someone. That witch. She must have managed to slip in a binding spell sometime before he escaped the circle or maybe she even incorporated it in the summoning itself, either way the ‘how’ mattered not at all. All the mattered was getting it removed.

Therefore, dealing with the witch had to be his first order of business.

[Until next Tuesday…]

2 Comments leave one →
  1. August 23, 2011 4:34 pm

    “He was the cold pocket of air humans walked through and wondered. He was the feeling of invisible steps upon a grave.” — I love these sentences. They gave me goose bumps.

    Great job, Lisa!

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