Author Heather McCorkle

The ground quakes beneath my paws, making the hut I pass shake. The thatch roof makes a swishing sound as the walls sway and nearly collapse. This telltale sign of my approach causes me no concern. Though people scamper from my path and pull back into the shadows cast by dusk, they don’t run. They know better. There is no escape. Any attempt to do so would only raise the ire of my master even more and she is not one any soul~living or dead~would want to aggravate. My long tail whips out behind me, deterring any would-be-heroes stupid enough to challenge me. I pass a man huddled against a hut who tried once. A jagged scar mars half his face and closes one eye; a reminder of his stupidity. I bare my fangs at him just to see him quake and nearly collapse. My striped chest shakes with a chuckle as I move on. There is no door upon the hut that I approach, nothing to even give the occupants the illusion of the ability to keep me out. Within a woman kneels upon the dirt floor, rocking b...

A cry arises from new and untried lungs, filling the room with its exuberance. The sound draws me closer to the birthing bed. Spent, the mother lies back upon the sweat-soaked pillows, her labored breathing beginning to return to normal. I pull my iridescent wings in close to my back to better fit within the small, crowded room. Handmaidens part before me, bowing. The midwife meets my gaze for but a moment, then lowers her eyes as she steps back. Moonlight spills in the nearby window, illuminating the cradle from which the cry emits. A hum builds within my chest, making me feel as though my soul is a tuning fork. The sensation grows stronger with each step I take. Stealing myself, I grasp the cradle with both hands and lean in to look inside. Tiny, perfect limbs thrash with an energy that matches it’s cries. Pale blue eyes stare up at me out of a pudgy face, the intelligence within them far too great for a newborn. The humming within me explodes, nearly buckling my knee...

In the distance the dark shadow of a broken vessel is slowly swallowed by the aquamarine sea. Arms and tail pumping, I swim toward it, not wanting to miss my opportunity. In a few heartbeats I’m amidst the sinking wreckage. White sails billow in the water to my right, sunlight from above filters through them, casting an eerie glow upon me. A wave of guilt washes through me but I force it to flow off my shoulders. I have no time for such things. Bodies begin to fill the water around me, arms and legs sprawled out, hair floating about their heads. It’s surreal, almost peaceful, the way they sink. But there is nothing peaceful about the faces. They are frozen in a mask of fear, mouths open in an endless scream, eyes wide and bulging. The sight of them makes me shudder. So much death is a bad omen. I want to get this done and get as far from here as possible. But I must wait. Finally, the first body shimmers, almost like the water around an eel does. With a whispered magic word, I acti...

This week during the I Love Dark YA blogfest we're supposed to write a 500 word short on this photo. Here goes: The hatch protests with a horrible screech as it opens for the first time in ten years. Pale sunlight pours into the tiny opening to the surface world, blinding even it's softness. But it's beautiful, warm on my skin. I have forgotten how it looked, how it felt. But it isn't the bright, beautiful yellow I remember. It's white and muted, like it used to look on cloudy days. With limbs that shake from anticipation, I climb the hatch ladder. The natural light hurts my eyes, forcing me to shade them as I take my first steps onto the surface. Peeking through my hands, I see that the world is now washed out shades of gray. Where is all the green? Gone, all gone. My eyes sting with tears. A twig snaps, a hollow, dead sound. I am not alone. Now I'm off to visit the other blogfesters ! I hope you'll join me.