The tiny sprite within the glass danced in emerald joy, sailing in and out of sight as the liquid poured. She beckoned to all at the table, enticing, enchanting. She was the gateway to inspiration, and music, or so the mortals believed. Her heart was wormwood, and her true gifts were madness and death. The icy water flowed over her, clouding her skin, as her power awakened. But the sweetness, the enticement…Was off. It burned her. Her louched countenance withered and shrieked in anguish.
“What on earth are you doing?!?”
“Splenda. Can’t have real sugar. Shouldn’t affect the taste much.”
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A journal of my creative work, my life, and my attempt to build for myself a new world.
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Steve Fluet
- Steven Fluet
- Chicago, IL, United States
- I'm an Arts Administrator, Writer, and Podcaster, looking to get out of my 'fallback' life.
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