Blue Keltic Moon (Children of the Keltic Triad) Read Free Page B

walking, but floating. As she disturbed the gray, tendrils swirled from her body, coloring the mist blue, purple, green. He pulled his feet from the stony ground and the sucking pop echoed, coloring, adding swirls of violet and fuchsia. Twirling, twisting, merging then flowing away, the colors drew him to her. He strained, called to her, watched his words float away on iridescent dragon wings.
    Close. So close . He smelled sea flowers in the colors, felt the cool of her body, tasted how she would feel to his mouth. The sound of her voice sang to him in pure crystal hues. Fingers twitching, curled as if to hold her, he leaned forward. The tip of one finger touched her.
    Bursts of light, aroma, sound and color flared outward then collapsed, imploding, and rapidly disappearing. Into the gray. Into nothing.
    Morghan collapsed to his knees and dug his fingers into the ground. He lifted the dry gray mass into the colorless air and cried out his frustration. No colorful sound escaped from his mouth and he sank back on his heels.
    Had she been real? Imagination? Hallucination? Morghan let the dust trail from his open hand then scrubbed his fingers over his face and speared them back through his tangled hair. The sharp tugs caused pain and that pain gave him the illusion of life. He howled in anguish, the sound muffled by the thick air. What was life—he didn’t even ken if he’d ever lived. Mayhap his memories were only the dream of some sadistic being.
    Was this hell? No, he didn’t think he believed in the human need for a place of evil. Or did he? He pulled harder, willing the sharp sting at his scalp to focus his drifting thoughts. It seemed forever since a clear thought had remained for longer than a breath.
    Morghan curled into a ball on the cold ground. Taking handful after handful of dry earth, he let it sift through his fingers, the dust merging with the gray, misty air. This was real . An unreality had become his reality. Or was it reality that was truly unreal? He clutched a handful of dirt to his chest when a soft sound captured his attention.
    Sound was unusual in this gray world, so any instance was cause for investigation. Frowning, he strained to hear the continuing sound. At least he should discover the source, shouldn’t he? He rolled to his hands and knees and crawled forward. He knew this sound, a knocking as if on a door. No, not knocking... speaking. No, not words... moonlight.
    He clamored to his feet. He heard moonlight. Stumbling forward he followed the sound. There was a reason for the light and the moon. He stopped. If only he could remember.
    Faster, then, he ran on until he moved beyond the small patch of the gray earth and rock he’d claimed as his own. Heated anticipation burned through him. Something was happening. Something important. He needed to be there. In the moonlight.
    Rhythmic pounding sounded behind him. He touched his face, curious at the rise of his eyebrows. Another followed the call of the moonlight? Who of the damned would sense such a call? A flash of fire. He struggled to capture the thought then shrugged as the memory blinked from his mind.
    Morghan paced in a small circle. Why had he been running? There was nothing different in this world of sameness. After another slow circle Morghan found his direction. Slowly he moved across the barren landscape until he found his chosen place. Cross-legged, he sat, rested his chin on his fists and stared into the dim, hazy distance.
    ––––––––
    B reanna perched on a bird-splattered picnic table at the edge of the park across the street from her parents’ home. Though the sun blazed down on the green expanse before her, it was cool in the shade. A breeze ruffled the pages of her journal, denying her the chance for long, rambling trains of thought. That didn’t matter, she was having difficulty concentrating anyway.
    Finally she closed the book and escaped into the Sunday afternoon entertainment. It was a busy day at the park,