By Lille Dante
Whether you like it or not, there is one true meaning and all else is rough fancy...
Her name was ‘Diane’. A name I have preserved in my fiction for over thirty-five years. Whenever I wish to depict a fantasy woman, who is also all-too-human, I picture her.
I remembered the look on her face, the wide-eyed incredulity that would almost have been funny in any other context, as her fingers turned into butterflies and flew away.
Real life lacks the structure of fiction. It is full of loose ends, of random events with no further significance, of dramatic turns from which no moral can be drawn. Yet sometimes, we perceive patterns in the raw chaos of existence. We insist that, somehow, it must all make sense.
Diane cast her spell, like casting a boulder in a pool of Reality and causing it to ripple. The force of her will made manifest.
Out of a haze of heat and dust, three horsemen rode across the prairie towards Redemption Pass... X-Files in the Wild West? No Part 2, this is it.
Once upon a Time that Never Was, in a gloomy chamber without a door, atop the highest turret in the royal palace, at the heart of the magical kingdom of Karmalot, there lived a Wizard.
“Ulrika!” exclaimed The Wizard as the light of realisation suddenly flashed in his piercing blue eyes.