Once upon a time, a Dark Knight abducts a beautiful Princess and carries her away to an enchanted garden, desperate to win her hand. He’s absolutely convinced that only the love of a good woman can save his poor, woebegotten soul.
Ha! What a tired cliché! Unfortunately for the Knight, the Princess is far from a helpless damsel in distress or easily beguiled maiden, and as the Knight attempts to woo her, she in turn, works her own agenda.
Thy Secrets Should Be Sung is a novella about love, past trauma, and identity. It updates every ten days or so.
The Knight stared out the window at the sun as it blazed away in a cloudless sky. It baked the grapes as they ripened on their vines, it shimmered and shined on the surface of the lake, it forced the swans to the north bank, where they pruned and fussed under the shadow of the […]
A fat frog sat on a lilypad, sunning itself in the morning air. It kept a watchful eye on the swans as they gathered by the rocks where the bulrush grew. It watched the dragonflies as they danced beneath the willow trees. It watched the fish as they swam in the lake.
The day-lilies stretched and opened with the day. All along the bank of the knoll they bloomed, from foot to crest and all the places in between. Only a small stone footpath offered passage up the hill.
One morning, the Knight brought the Princess a present, a marvelous wooden box. No more than a foot square and perhaps ten inches deep, lacquered a dark and rich brown, clasped with ornate brass, emblazoned with intricate imagery: boars and oxen, bears and lions.
He pushed aside a fern and made his way downhill. The brush was thick here. Blessed by eternal spring, the thicket had grown tall and wild. Lichen, moss; branches bristled with buds, life sprouted from every corner, from every rocky crevice.