life of a georgia Artist

The Dark Realm Boiling black cast iron cauldrons were bubbling all over the floor. The fires from them burning were the only light visible. It lit this cavern in an evil way. The walls had a green ooze pouring out of its crevices. The dark floor was filled with old apothecary bottles holding, human eyes, noses,fingers, and ears. The creatures at the cauldrons had heads that were so grotesque that at first sight, you wondered if it was even possible to be a head. The horns curled around their grotesque misshapen heads. Each horn had open cracks with white ooze coming out of them. The horns had warts and blisters bubbling on them. They also had markings on them for rank. The more marks the horns contained, the higher the rank of the creature. Their heads were closer to an egg shape than round. Their bodies had the fluidity of water. They wore burlap strips as their clothing. They had no visible shape to them. They mumbled in some language and had no noticeable teeth ...

Melanie felt refreshed after a night tucked into her cottage. She stumbled out to her kitchen to make a new fire, make some much-needed coffee, and open her curtains to let it the glorious subtle light that filled the hills of Cork. While reaching for the kitchen curtain she felt something brush against her lower leg and jumped back and almost knocked the coffee pot off the counter. Her car Griffin was rubbing her leg and purring. She picked him up and nuzzled him against her face giving him kisses. She should have been surprised to see him pop up, but he always appeared when she needed a protector. Then it hit her, she needed protection? What did Griffin know that she did not? Melanie walked over to the couch and placed the cat down on the middle cushion. She set logs into the fireplace and nestled some newspapers below it and lit the papers on fire with a match from the wall sconce. She pondered how many matches were in the container. She walked with purpose back to...

Melanie walked the Irish hills and let her mind wander. She was heading into the city of Cork. She had saved for this trip back to her homeland for decades. She had not been to Ireland since her and her mom fled on that cold and blackened night. They filled what they could into their tapestry bags and ran. They boarded a plane for America. Running from the past, running from the darkness and from the evil that was now following them. Magic was both a blessing and a curse. Melanie’s mom never seemed to really rest. She was never at peace. She kept one eye looking back on the past for she feared it would catch up to them and she needed to be ready. Arriving back in Cork and walking the same hills she toddled around many moons ago, Melanie could feel a shift in herself. She felt freer here. She was alone with the sheep on the hillside. Her tiny thatched roof cottage was only a few rooms, but it was all she needed. She was only here for a three-month stint. She needed to f...