Rebirth: Spring Symphony

A Spring tale of rebirth for J.A.Mes Press Rebirth Anthology. All proceeds will go to a UK Stroke Charity.

Spring Symphony

Spring Symphony © Lisa Shambrook

Spring shivered in delight as Jack’s intoxicating cloud of glitter eddied about her. She stared in awe at his ethereal design, an ice tattoo, shimmering like frozen lace across her scales. “Stay a little longer…” she begged, her work forgotten as she trembled beneath the newly painted webs of frost and feathers of rime that now patterned her violet wings. The cold wind whispered in her ear, but she snubbed the wind’s wise words, snorted and called after the playful pixie instead, “Wait! Wait for me!”

Jack grinned and ran his fingers through his silver hair, eyeing the dragon with amusement. He hopped up onto her back, over her spines and nestled between her vast wings. She launched into the air leaving a sparkling trail in her wake. She rose above shimmering trees, above the deep evergreens and ascended into fluffy clouds. She climbed until the air sent thrilling chills across her hide and her eyes shone as adrenalin pumped. Jack whooped and wrapped his arms around her neck and frost danced across her rainbow scales. For the first time in a long time, Spring felt more invigorated than ever before.

…

 

This is a preview to the story that can be found within A Symphony of Dragons. It has become one part of my symphony, a composition, of A Symphony of Seasons… You can find this enchanting book of short stories in many outlets in both paperback and eBook or at my publisher BHC Press.

Read previews to Autumn’s and Winter’s tales: Autumn Flame and Winter Hope.

12 Days of Christmas: Storms

Day seven and we reach storms in our 12 Days of Christmas Bop…and mine’s an ice storm:

Photograph by Lisa Shambrook and Streamzoo (Please do not use without permission)

Storms

They knew it was coming, but they were so far out, so cut off, there was nothing to do but wait.

So they battened down the hatches, like the government had advised, and watched the crazy exodus on the television all cosied up on the sofa. 

The storm was coming, coming from the north and they were the north. 

The television signal vanished as the storm arrived. They glanced at each other, smiling nervously, and he took her hand in his, squeezed it, then urgently pulled her off the sofa and led her upstairs.

She gazed out of the window and smiled at the blanket of snow. The trees, silhouettes against the brooding skyline, barely moved and the world was silent except for the heavy patter of falling snow. She fell into his arms and his mouth hungrily devoured hers.

In the afterglow, his arm cradled her and his hand gently stroked her bare thigh as she lie with her back against his stomach and she sighed. The snow had stopped and the room lightened, a cold brightness filled the air and she clasped his hand in hers. 

It was silent when it came.

They watched Jack Frost’s masterpiece overlay the window, outside and in, and they followed the frost as it bathed the walls. She watched it spread across the sheets and their entwined hands and she felt her toes disappear. Ice travelled up her body in exquisite contrast to the fiery heat enveloping her just a few minutes ago. Feathers of rime patterned her arms and her face grew tight as it froze. She felt his heart beat against her back and closed her eyes as the ice danced across her frigid eyelids, and moments later their heartbeats vanished as the storm quickly passed.

(296 Words)

A Jar of Fireflies 12 Days of Christmas

Day Seven: July – Storms

And there are more great stories to read…

Bekahcat: Ice

An ineligible entry to Bekahcat’s 99xs-store contest:
Categories: Design a t-shirt, a piece of art or 50 words on the theme of ICE

My entry won’t be counted as I’m related to Bekah, but this is my photo and my story:

Photograph by Lisa Shambrook using Streamzoo 

(Please do not use without permission)

Jack had no idea how long this hot spell would last, but it was playing havoc with work…he could barely get the basics done in the short, cool early hours.

The ice caps melted, the temperature rose, and he brushed his hand across the glass for the very last time…

(50 Words)

Read the other entries at The Adventures of a Bekah Cat and enter yourself!

Five Sentence Fiction: Clandestine

I’ve seen a lot of this lately and thought I’d love to join in…so for anyone who doesn’t know, Five Sentence Fiction is about packing a powerful punch in a tiny fist. Each week Lillie McFerrin posts a one word inspiration, then anyone wishing to participate will write a five sentence story based on the prompt word. The word does not have to appear in the five sentences, just used for direction.
This week the word is: Clandestine

‘Icy darkness infiltrated, plunging the city landscape into a cold and moonless night. All was inky black and quiet, just how he liked it. Stepping softly, he shivered as he wandered the urban streets, his dancing fingers furtively composing a silent masterpiece.  He performed his second trick of the night and vanished with the first rays of day, exposing his intricate works of art. All the glass of the town lay beneath a delicate lattice, a coating of glorious filigree workmanship…all signed, sealed and delivered by Jack Frost himself.’

Photograph by Lisa Shambrook (please do not use without permission)