Chez's Microfiction Dispensary
@chezdispenser.bsky.social
microfiction from chez, he/they queer Indigenous journalist and storyteller. cw for violence and some gore.
A drinking song from Neverfell, a defiantly secular city in the midst of a magic river basin:
They say the unholy twist ill in their beds,
And blink away red-eyed tears,
There's never a rest for their wicked heads,
And love I've not slept for years -
They say the unholy twist ill in their beds,
And blink away red-eyed tears,
There's never a rest for their wicked heads,
And love I've not slept for years -
June 14, 2024 at 9:48 PM
A drinking song from Neverfell, a defiantly secular city in the midst of a magic river basin:
They say the unholy twist ill in their beds,
And blink away red-eyed tears,
There's never a rest for their wicked heads,
And love I've not slept for years -
They say the unholy twist ill in their beds,
And blink away red-eyed tears,
There's never a rest for their wicked heads,
And love I've not slept for years -
He lingers over the mortar, staring into the dry mixture within. The scent is earthy, almost sweet; he runs a finger through the bone dust and dried leaves.
"Always dying, never dead," he murmurs. "Orange and gold and crackling red..."
His voice quivers with the prayer.
"Always dying, never dead," he murmurs. "Orange and gold and crackling red..."
His voice quivers with the prayer.
June 10, 2024 at 8:51 PM
He lingers over the mortar, staring into the dry mixture within. The scent is earthy, almost sweet; he runs a finger through the bone dust and dried leaves.
"Always dying, never dead," he murmurs. "Orange and gold and crackling red..."
His voice quivers with the prayer.
"Always dying, never dead," he murmurs. "Orange and gold and crackling red..."
His voice quivers with the prayer.