Casus Belli

The war cry of the Phoenix Rose sounded through the ancient passageways of the Templus de Ambros. In surprise, Kaiser Rudolpho Imler stood up from his giant office chair. As per the regular maintenance of the Kingdom of Poterit Don, Imler had been going over public project reports with his Public Works advisor, Craig Archer. The two men stared at each other, neither quite knowing what to make of the noise. In Kaiser Imler’s many years of living in the Templus de Ambros, he’d heard the war cry only once when he was eight years old. The hair on the nape of his neck rose as he rushed to the window to look into the Gryphon Gardens. Craig Archer dropped decorum and stood on Imler’s right, also staring out the window. Through the dark, they saw the Phoenix above the Rose screaming as she flew in fiery figure eights.

     “What’s she doing?” Archer asked.

     “Calling us to war,” Imler said while still staring at the pissed off Phoenix.

Astra Declive

          Sandy blonde locks danced across the young woman's brow as she stared out at the roaring blue expanse. No clouds, just wind.  She looked over the edge of the cliff at the speck 150 feet down, shuddered at the thought of missing the ledge, hugged her black leather jerkin and murmured a prayer, then stepped off. Initial descent created momentary panic: she just knew she'd miss until she just knew she wouldn't. Her breathing steadied, her fall slowed to a stop. She hovered like a swimmer floats, relaxed, not a care in the world. Tunic and cotton breeches flapped around her battered old knapsack, which was a gift from the old woman. The watery beat on the breakers picked up as the wind whipped her against the cliff. Her desire to relax quickly oscillated to the desire to land safely.

Sol Oriens

And alien tears will fall for him

Pity’s long-broken urn

For his mourners will be out cast men

And outcasts always mourn.

Oscar Wilde - tombstone

(Pere Lachaise, Paris, France)

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