Epic Stories

The mango grove with a lass called Paro perched on a treeamong thick bush of leaves that Devdas could not seebleeding she came down as a stone was peltedsweat and spattering rain divulging her femininity fully wettedsweetness exuberant youth and defiant peaks of twoabout to mature fully globes,  areolas and perked up nipples tooun-kempt hair and a cut on her foreheadDevdas looked at her dazed standing stone deadsilence in...

Majella rests by the cherry tree,a diary by her side.Her lover is gone, nowshe'll never be his bride. A broken heart can linger,hurt far more than broken flesh.Some are never mended,Never able to start afresh.Dark stormy clouds surround,The pages, the wind betook.Rain drenched the lovein a broken old book.* * *Stormy winds scatter the miserable leaves of a tired old book;for her shattered story, she grieves.A book in a wi...

Ewan stood, still and mesmerized, beneath the castle window. It was the darkening hour, around midnight, when his longing was greatest. Not the longing to feed, no. He had satisfied that some hours before, from his stash of blood red vials he kept in the cellar beneath the expansive orchards of this vast abode. The hunger and longing which brought him to this very window each night at the same hour was caused by Elysia, a...

Her eyes slowly opened, brilliant green wide eyes the color of emeralds or the green, green grass that grew in the gardens during the all too brief months of spring and summer. They were slitted. Like a cats, people would always say. Even after all this time, she couldn’t help roll her eyes when someone said that. It was so… cliché. Obvious. Obvious or not, it was still pretty accurate. Like a cats, Silmaria’s eyes were s...