Posts Published by Matthew Maichen

A writer/editor from San Marcos, California. His works have appeared in Bleed Error, and Aurelia Leo's Fable anthology, and are upcoming from Thirteen Podcast, Dark Rose Press and Grendel Press.

To Summon Her

( No Rating Yet )

I first saw you in dreams after I’d stolen an apple from the market. You chided me then, in a way that no one had. You warned of a doomed future, should I not change my ways. Despite those ominous words I had never felt such peace. Nor would I, in all the years after. I promised to adhere to justice to see your smile. But you turned away, your wings burning inseparably from ethereal sunlight.

I kept this promise for so long. Or tried to. But you never returned.

I became a soldier believing, like so many, that it was the path to heroism. I found war’s truth in pain and pestilence and piles of bodies. When I came home, I imagined a family in my future. But I failed to make a courtship. I blamed my scarred face. But I knew always that it was my lack of confidence with words; my fear of what would come when I said the wrong thing. I resolved then to be a man of action. I would earn everything by working to meet my ambitions.

By then, you were only a memory of an imagining. My greatest hope was for my future wife to be someone like you, convinced as I was that you, yourself, were not real.

After my post-war idleness, I became the guard of the Fort of the Forbidden Library. Four crumbling stone walls surrounded a tower full of books that no man was to enter. Not that anyone would, with the Fort placed atop a mountain and surrounded by a forest said to be haunted. It was the slow, boring work that ex-soldiers with cooled bloodlust craved.

And it was where I saw you again.

I stood atop the wall one night, drifting into unconsciousness, as the glow of foxfire caught on the shape of a winged woman. I remembered all at once that you had been more than a dream. But before I could approach, the light faded, and you were gone. I had seen nothing but your shape, and your presence in memory was that of a half-formed dream. That night, I slept on my cramped barracks cot wondering whether I’d been enchanted by an angel or a succubus.

The next day, knowing full well that the penalty for such betrayal was death, I snuck into the Library.

Read More