canadian rocky mountain high. photos by richard gottardo
The Curse of the Nine: Snippet
By: E.M. Peterson
Shiloh stared out at the vast mountain’s fog as it rolled into the valley of Malek. Her eyes took in the pale lavender veil and the flickering storm clouds that clashed against its soft hues. The soft blues dove into deep indigo as ribbons of green and silver danced between them.
"It’s time, Shiloh," a deep voice beckoned to her at the door.
"I’m not ready," she admitted holding her chest. Her light feathered fingers touch the raised pattern that was slowly creeping from her heart like ivy on English brick.
"I know," Sean stepped towards her. "But we must go."
Shiloh turned to her brother, her winged hair settling sadly against her shoulders. She passed him with an obedient yet broken-hearted air.
"Did you love him?" Sean asked as her body passed the threshold.
Shiloh paused, lifting her head to gaze longingly into the night once more. Tears gathered at her eyes as she let go of a pained laugh. “Yes. Yes I believe I did. A stupid thing to do. I didn’t mean to fall in love.”
Sean looked at his sister, his heart aching for her. “We never mean to, Shiloh. It just happens.”
© E.M. Peterson