Tag Archives: short story

The Wizard and His Lady (Part Three)

The Wizard and His Lady

[Part One]

[Part Two]

[Part Three]

[Part Four]

     A small smile graced her pale lips. “Chivalry extends to men of magic as well, I see.” The maiden turned away from the wizard. Her gaze traveled from the blooming waterlilies to where the sword was held, trapped in stone under the cerulean surface. “You, Great Wizard, know the events that will come. With my treasure by his side, your king will be victorious in every battle except for his last. You are merely prolonging the inevitable.”

     With much softness, he stepped closer to her. The man attempted to reason with her. “I come as a friend. We are both creatures of magic. We both play a role in this man’s fate and-“

   “And the sword does not grant it’s wielder immortality” Her tone was sharp. A dragonfly perched on her outreached fingers. “Humans. Such fragile and insignificant lifespans.” She mused, her pale lips pursed in annoyance.”Why should I relinquish the blade? He will perish regardless.” The insect flew off as she turned to face the lake, her dainty hands clenched into fists. “I am bound to protect the sword as you are bound to protect your king.”

      The Lady disappeared into a wisp of fog. Clouds eclipsed the sun’s light. A strong gust of wind pushed through, rattling the leaves. His cloak waved furiously behind him. Despite the conjuring storm, he stood his ground. Her delicate voice became the hazy air that hissed around the Wizard.

      “…A fool to meddle in a human’s life….Insignificant…..Your precious king will fall in the end…….Inevitable.

     A tremendous ache weighed on his heart. His disposition grew somber as he nodded gravely. “I am aware of that, sweet one. He will not endure. As the battle approaches, the King will face unimaginable scorn. I wish for the King’s reign… For his mark in time…To be remembered as an honorable one” The wizard leaned on his wooden staff as he braced against her fury intertwined with nature. “My lady… I need your trust. His life will end, that is certain. His legacy, however, will endure.”

     The lake, the forest, the entire world fell silent once again.

The Wizard and His Lady (Part Two)

The Wizard and His Lady

[Part One]

[Part Two]

[Part Three]

[Part Four]

He peered into the lake, to stare at his own reflection, and was met instead by the image of a beautiful maiden. Her eyes were the color of forgotten pearls and her hair fell into gentle waves of gold. Not startled in the slightest, he placed a hand on his heart and bowed solemnly. “My lady.” The corner of her lips curved up slightly. “I was wondering when you would show yourself.”

The leaves in the trees bristled in the wind. “Wizard” Her honeyed voice, familiar and sweet, danced in the air. “I know why you are here.

With that, the Wizard let out a hearty laugh. “Can I not visit an old friend? I wanted to see you.” The water began to ripple. Her eyes narrowed as the reflection wavered. “Clever as always, dear one. I am in need of your assistance.”

The maiden emerged from the glass-like surface. Her skin was as pale and delicate as the water lilies surrounding the lake. Clothed in white samite, she exuded the grace of a queen entering her court. “You’ve come to take the sword, haven’t you? My treasure?” She sounded disheartened as she stood on the water with bare feet, gazing at her wizened companion.

From the water’s depths, the sword’s light radiated like a burning torch. “It seems a war is brewing. My King requires the blade’s power” He said, lifting his wrinkled face the sky and stroking his beard.

“There have been many men who have come in search of a glory they are not fit to bear.” She explained, her chin raised proudly. “Why is your beloved king not here to claim the sword for himself?”

The Wizard looked upon the Lady with great care and gentleness. “You are a lady, a most wondrous lady. You are not a conquest for the King, or any knight, to pursue. I would not allow you to be subject to false kindness or an outright assault.” His warm hand caressed her chilled skin, tracing the curve of her cheek with his thumb. “I would never allow you to be harmed, which is why I have come instead, to speak plainly with you.”

A small smile graced her pale lips. “Chivalry extends to men of magic as well, I see.” The maiden turned away from the wizard. Her gaze traveled from the blooming waterlilies to where the sword was held, trapped in stone under the cerulean surface. “You, Great Wizard, know the events that will come. With my treasure by his side, your king will be victorious in every battle except for his last. You are merely prolonging the inevitable.”


Sorry for being MIA, been super busy lately. Hope you guys enjoy part two!

Write with Heart,

Lady Jabberwocky.

The Wizard and His Lady (Part One)

The Wizard and His Lady

[Part One]

[Part Two]

[Part Three]

[Part Four]

     The moment he pierced through the mist and entered her realm, she felt his presence. Like a spider watching a butterfly flutter into its web. Her domain, guarded by gnarled trees and a thick fog, left many a weary traveler lost for days. However, this was no ordinary traveler. He was an elderly man, who leaned on a wooden staff as he walked through the forest. His cloak was adorned with stars and the emblem of his kingdom.
He was coming to the lake.

     The thicket of the woods opened up to a clearing of vibrant green grass. Reeds bent against the water’s edge. There were no birds chirping nor fishing leaping out of the glass like surface of the lake. He was alone, yet he smiled. “Lovely day, isn’t it?” All was quiet and still. There was a glimmer in his eyes, the sparkle of a child. The elder man hummed pleasantly to himself as he walked along the water trickling through the rocks. “A bit chilly, but lovely none the less.” Leaning against a large stone, he admired the lilies that perfumed the air with the scent of spring.

     He peered into the lake, to stare at his own reflection, and was met instead by the image of a beautiful maiden. Her eyes were the color of forgotten pearls and her hair fell into gentle waves of gold. Not startled in the slightest, he placed a hand on his heart and bowed. “My lady,” The corner of her lips curved up slightly. “I was wondering when you would show yourself.”

      The leaves in the trees bristled in the wind. “Wizard” Her honeyed voice, familiar and sweet, danced in the air. “I know why you are here.


No judging, bees, and you might get part two.  Bonus points to anyone who knows what this story is based on. Hint: Think medieval legend….?

Write with Heart,

Lady Jabberwocky.

The Brawn Man of Brooklyn (A Short Story)

They called it an extraordinary phenomenon.

A regular Hercules, Dr.Robinowitz on 3rd street claimed. Their son, Frank, was born with the capabilities of lifting objects 100 times heavier than his body weight. Super strength, the kids would say. His mother said Hail Mary in Italian ten times a day and cried, as if he son was some kind of devil. She constantly scolded him out of fear of his destructiveness. “Don’t touch that!” and “Don’t touch anything!” or “Don’t you dare touch the baby!”

He was a toddler. And his strength was something unexplainable, something that should remain a secret. If he pressed his hand into wall too hard, the wall would crack. Toys, if not handled gently, would be crushed or broken into pieces. Even the metal handle of his bicycle would be indented by his fingertips. He couldn’t control this, even as he got older, his power grew more dangerous. On the kindergarten playground, he pushed a kid out of the sandbox and cracked his rib. When he was seven years old, he threw a baseball and it landed three blocks away and through a car windshield.

He couldn’t touch anything. He wasn’t safe.

Frank would hold his small hands and peek into his sister Camilla’s crib when she was an infant. He was afraid of breaking her too.

His father owned a deli under the train tracks, Berardi’s Deli. Behind it was a dead patch of grass they called a backyard. And above it was a shoe box apartment they called a home. His father wore a filthy apron as he sat on the sidewalk’s edge, smelling like fennel seed and sweat. He smoked a cigarette and watched the kids in the street play. Frank, a small boy with small hands, sat beside him.

“Pops, why can’t I play with them?” The boy said “I promise I’ll be good. I won’t hit so hard. Honest.” He watched as the kids played stick ball.
His father gave him a side glance, taking a long drag and rubbing his stubbled chin. “Last time, you knocked a kid out.”

He looked down at his hands, discouraged “I-I didn’t mean to, Pops, he was….”

“Your mother with have a heart attack if she finds out you hurt someone else with your…” Trailing off, he stood up and stomped his cigarette out. The few remaining embers in the curb fizzled into the cement. “Don’t let nobody see you doing that. You hear me?” He warned. Frank’s eyes wandered to the window to the apartment above the deli, where his mother, with tired eyes, looked out.


“I don’t know if it’s a good idea, Camilla.” He said, looking down at his feet as they walked home from high school one crisp autumn afternoon. His black hair fell into a perfect greased curl.

“Sure it is,” His sister grinned, holding her biology textbook in her arms. “You love baseball.”

“Watchin’ baseball, sure. Not playin’ it,” He shrugged, still unsure “Pop’s will be mad. And Ma’s gonna be in hysterics if she finds out.”

She nudged him with her elbow. Her long wool skirt matched her mint green sweater. “Come on, don’t worry about that stuff, Frankie, you’d be amazing and you know it.”

Frank sighed, shoving his hands in his Letterman jacket. A chill blew between them. A police siren blared in the distance. The sun was setting, burning orange and gold.

“What if I hurt someone?”

“What if you only hit home runs?”

“I’m serious, Camilla,” He grabbed her arm lightly, as if he was holding a feather. They stood on the street corner across from their family’s deli. “I can’t control this. Someone’s gonna get hurt.”

“You can control it. You don’t have to be scared. You’re strong… super strong, but it doesn’t have to be a bad thing. You can do something good with it.” The sirens grew louder.

As they crossed the street, a car screeched around the corner, being tailed by red and blue flashing lights. A police chase. Frank was in the middle of the street, frozen for a moment. Camilla screamed, pulling at his hand. “Frankie, move!” He wouldn’t budge. He didn’t want to be scared anymore. The car was barreling towards him. He pushed his sister out of the way, and braced for impact, with an arched back and outstretched arms.

The car slammed into Frank, metal crushed against his chest, pushing him back a couple of feet. His sneakers skid against the pavement. The vehicle was stopped completely, with three bewildered robbers wearing ski masks sitting inside. The headline in the newspaper the next day dubbed him “The Brawn Man of Brooklyn”.

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