Q is for Questioning

Questioning the mask of Magdalene

One you donned to disguise and obfuscate

Hiding yourself behind an important vocation

Teacher and caregiver under the wing of the Dragon

Until Dragon clerics come to take your students

Binding one with golden chains

You question the Dragon’s purpose 

Are their acolytes checking darkness and light?

Fulfilling the vocation of their faith? 

They’re giving into their own power lust

The Dragon has always had a lusty appetite

Now the Serpent’s brood falls to their hunger

While the Serpent laughs within the shadows

You call upon a champion to bring forth light

A unicorn goddess willing to heal and protect

Checking the might and hunger of the Dragon

Sending Her to one of your precious students

Hoping She will find and pierce his heart

Once he accepts A Suitor’s Challenge

Coming from yet another beloved student

Only intentions can go terribly astray

The light can be harsh and blinding unchecked

Just as the darkness hungers and devours

Leaving once more to question

The very forces you created to protect. 

P is for Peter

You hide your pain behind a flirtatious smile

Wearing clothes from a time and place not yours

Defending intellectual insincerity with utter sincerity

Kissing your boss’s hand with a flourish

Regarding her son with a romantic eye

You fill a void left behind by another

Disliking the imprint he’s left all over the Navel

You’re starting to care more than you should

Getting too serious is always dangerous

You’re still haunted by the ghost of Paul

Offering yourself to a deadly spiderwoman

Always considering the consequences

So careless of the consequences

You’re tragedy waiting to happen

Yet you prance about wearing the mask of comedy

Distracting everyone with your looks and manner

It’s all a sleight of hand to keep them from noticing

You hide a heart larger than anyone would guess

You listen more seriously than he’ll ever know

When he says I’m Stealing Myself From Shadows

Too much has already been stolen

He’s already taken far too much

Yet you offer him even more

Ready to give yourself completely

To play a more dangerous game than you’ve ever played. 

#RainbowSnippets: At Her Service

Welcome to Rainbow Snippets!

Every Saturday or Sunday those participating post and share six sentences of LGBTQIA+ fiction on their blogs. It can be their own. It can be someone else’s. It just needs to be LGBTQIA+.

To read a variety of samples from LGBTQIA+ stories, go to…


For my own, I’ll continue with showing a little from the expanded version of At Her Service, a ff fairytale variation of Cinderella…this is a little longer than six sentences, forgive me…

“Mother, stop.” I heard that husky voice raised with a firm authority I’d never heard in it before. I opened my eyes to glimpse the Lady Ariella’s ankle, peeking out from under the hem of a dark blue skirt. The shape of the protruding bone was exquisite. 

I wanted to wrap my grateful fingers around that ankle, to kiss it. 

“Ariella is right,” the Lady Ariella said. Yes, we had the same name once upon a time. “How can you say this is not her home? Her father lives here. She grew up here.”

O is for Ouroborous

Myth, metaphor, or solid rock

The coiled serpents which is the world

Dragons follow your undulating glide

Aspects of you rise, rearing their hoods

Declaring that they are true you

You are beyond such venonomous vanity

Beyond concepts of good and evil

You are the mouth which swallows

The door opening, leading to all

Legends abound about your movement

The Unicorn would gore you as an abomination

Yet She must rest Her dainty hooves upon your coils

The beginning and end of a myth, devouring each other

The riddle no one can ever resolve

Conquer an aspect of you in A Suitor’s Challenge

Defeat those claiming to be yours, stirring up Trouble at Caerac Keep

You are crushed, stepped on, yet you rise again

You have so many forms, so many shapes

You live on in so many minds and hearts

Construct after construct you find yourself becoming

It’s the only way they can comprehend you

Frightened, warm living being living in your coils

For no one can handle the whole. 

N is for Nevalyn

The devouring maw of the Serpent

Sometimes taking a woman’s form

Mother and master to many a monster

Swarming out of the shadowy north

Secret mentor to queen and imperatrix

Nursing your own brood as your vessels

Inspiring a fear mingled with desire

Desire to control your golden-haired, golden-eyes spawn

They’re so like you when you possessed a human form

Cast in the abyss, your powers thrive within your brood

You possess them, use one in his position as prince

Riding within his skin, curled inside his soul

Having him act out your ambitions

Satisfying your growing hunger

Until your intended vessel takes on A Suitor’s Challenge

Giving you a chance to regain all you’ve lost. 

M is for Melyssa

Hating your lofty name and all it implies

You try to break “Melyssa” into parts

Breaking yourself as part of the process

“Mel” becomes all you’re goofy shortcomings

The summation of all your ashamed of

Combined in a comedic, cute package

Yet happy among the Sisters of Seraphix

Happier than Melyssa ever was in the Gardens of Arachne

Ashamed of your goofy Mel-ness you yearn for ‘Lyssa

Yearn for her sleek, seductive beauty that makes women swoon

‘Lyssa is far more snake than arachnocrat

She hungers and feeds upon whom she will

Not just some chosen Marriage Feast

Filled with grace, cunning, and courage

Both Mel and ‘Lyssa live in your shadow

As shadows of your discard and desire

The aching gnaw of your maternal issues

Neither of your shadows escape their bite

All the while the ghosts of your lost kinsmen 

Laugh in your memories, laugh at your crude wishes

Slyly slipping through a crack in the Door

While you still fumble for the handle

A Godling for Your Thoughts?

Your godling becomes your companion

As much as an avatar of your desire

The companion you always longed for

Saw in so many faces which never saw you

Seraphix sees you like no one else does

Seraphix needs you to be powerful

Your godling’s need is an addiction

Fulfilling a yearning you’ve long ignored. 

K is for Kyra

Heir to the Serpent’s hungry hopes

Hidden from veiled, imperialistic eyes

Wrapped in the tattered shroud of reluctant wisdom

Stefan is your only friend, your confidant

Whom knows how deep the Serpent has burrowed within you

Whispering to you what She plans for Her world, Her brood

She regards everything as Hers including you

Until Stefan steps between you and Her plans

Taking on the burden of the Serpent’s hunger, the Serpent’s ambition

You are torn apart, chained, and rescued

Living a secretive life in the shadows of Dragon temples

The towered fortresses of sorcerous libraries which weave their schemes

Until your path crosses with Stefan’s once more

He’s Prince Stephen Jasior, adopted brother and heir to an empire

Flaunting his golden hair, the Serpent’s legacy unchained

Flaunting his powers in the arena of magical combat

Offering A Suitor’s Challenge to any who’ll meet him in battle

Willing to offer his hand, his power, and position to any who can best him

Devouring the lives of loser after loser, draining their mystical energy

Feeding the Serpent’s hunger with many an ambitious would-be consort

He laughs as he feeds, relishing his victims screams

You can see his eyes tell a different story

He’s a prisoner, trapped in his own body

It’s the Serpent who’s playing the part of the wicked prince

He wouldn’t be trapped if he hadn’t taken your place

It’s up to you, the Serpent’s intended, to save him from this trap

Even if it means facing Stefan in the arena yourself.

J is for Juno

Keeping up a breezy stream of chatter

A subtle menace touching your fluttering ways

Such a sweet, harmless appearance of vapidness

It’s the surface appearance twinkling in everyone’s eyes

Only those whom look deeper see what lies beneath 

Extra arms, extra eyes, something far more dangerous

Power was offered and you guzzled it greedily

Hoping to replenish what you’d lost

Once upon a time you ruled the heavens

An immortal beauty at your brother’s side

Just how long were you shackled to him

He kept you in a bridal chain made of gold

You always felt its weight even at your most lofty

Lashing out at those whom opposed your position and purpose

For you couldn’t lash out at the one who chained you

He had all the power of the heavens and he lost it

He’s your prisoner now

Kept in a helpless state, unable to stray from you

He may yet slip from your grasp

You’ve found a kind of happiness in Omphalos

Drawing strength from the unhappiness of those close

They clutch at shades of what once was

Chasing after the phantoms of whom they wish to be

You defend, protect, and hold your dear ones in close bondage

Ready to lash out as you once lashed out

Wondering if this is really what you want

Your desires are embodied by other people

Whom disappear through a closing Door

You give chase even though your feet are weary

Having trouble finding footing upon the path.

A Godling for Your Thoughts?

You used to be one of those gods

Now you fumble along as your rivals once did. 

#RainbowSnippets: At Her Service

Welcome to Rainbow Snippets!

Every Saturday or Sunday those participating post and share six sentences of LGBTQIA+ fiction on their blogs. They can be their own. They can be someone else’s. They just need to be LGBTQIA+.

For my own, I’m going to continue with the extended version of At Her Service I’m working on…

She hit me, a sharp, glancing blow which might have been no more than a slap to a sturdier woman. It knocked me off my feet, left my cowering at hers. 

“How dare you?” I’ll never forget the angry snarl of hatred which distorted her face. What I’d seen chilling within her eyes and pinched lips had finally been set free.

I whimpered at the sight of that hatred, covering my head with my hands. 

I is for Isolde

Strong, stalwart, with sensitive fingers

You chose to be a warrior, not an artist

To protect the woman you desire

Wandering at her side through an enchanted world

Standing between Amberwyne and her mistress

Following a trail of Fidessa’s mischiefs

Scattered in traps, born by mysterious strangers

Banishing whatever nightmares have taken human form

This was your purpose, your truth

Until Amberwyne’s vision called it all into question

Claiming that The Players Are the Thing

Strange maidens in another world, your creatrixes

In thrall to their dark Gamemaster

Deciding your fates with a roll of the die

Your existence can’t be as arbitrary as that

Only sometimes you hear the cry of your creatrix

Frustrated girl, floundering and finding her voice in fantasy

Perhaps your purpose is to guide that voice

As you once guided the chisel to shape stone

You’re sculpting new ideas, a new existence, a new identity

Possibilities she can try on, flirt with, to alleviate her frustration

Shaping her as she once shaped you

Whispering through dice and dreams

Guiding her to an elusive happiness through imagination.