The cards lay on the table: Lovers entwined under the Reaper’s scythe.

Not again.

The long fingers with their black nails drummed on the table.

La Morte.

Next of course (what else) the rose blew from side to side in the window, summoning her to look out.

There was, below in the garden, a strange animal known only in tales. The body of a man it had, feet of a griffin, tail of a monkey, head of a lion, and very well-dressed.


She flicked back a strand of her black sheet of hair. When had she conjured this?

Deep in the house, a cello.

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Hello world!

Now is the dark time. The time and place to explore all that lives within the dark. Tales of Vampires, Werewolves, Changelings, Sorcery. All for your delectation.

Art, poetry, fiction, music, video: all shall grow here like the moss over a great treasure chest  in the attic of a ruined chateau. My hope is that many authors will  come into this Faery Realm and share their extraordinary visions with other Creatures of the Night.

Dream my beauty…Dream the dark dream, the witches dream. One Hundred years in Faery is not very long.