Posts

Showing posts from January, 2018

Un rêve d'amour: A Dream of Love - Table of Contents

Image
Enchanted Conversation Magazine presents our February Issue: Un rêve d'amour: A Dream of Love Love can be magical or tragic, star-crossed or end happily ever after--an unrequited love for another or two souls that are meant to be.

In this issue, we asked writers to explore the different aspects of love through stories, poems, and for the first time in the magazine, an illustrated tale in digital format.

How do you search for a love who does not want to be found? Can the secrets of a mountain draw lovers together? Does Hades look different when seen through Persephone's eyes? Can you find a knight ready to champion your cause, speeding through the desert with the lights of Vegas in the distance? Is a rainstorm at midnight or a snowfall at dawn the gift the sky gives when it falls in love? Should love hold one captive from its true being?...and more tales and poems on the intangible, glorious, frustrating, beautiful idea of the dream that is love.

The EC Team would also like to than…

The Pearl - Sabrina N. Balmick

Image
In the briny twilight, a storm gathers...
In the briny twilight, a storm gathers, its edges stained grey as pearl. Fishermen scurry to moor swaying boats as a distant horn bellows a warning. King Luke, standing on his balcony, sips salted wine and watches the sea, his mind straying to the sea queen as her storm roils beyond world's edge. This storm might rage two, perhaps three nights. Forever, for all he cares. Tonight marks fifty years since she'd taken her leave of the world.

Laughter rises from the courtyard. The old king peers over the balcony to catch his granddaughter waving, the girl's sea glass green eyes sparkling with mischief. Her grandmother's eyes. He tilts a smile and she shrieks happily. Fat raindrops pelt down. She scampers away with her cousins, trailing laughter like bright ribbon.

Alone again, the king stands in the cold rain. When he is half-soaked and stiff-jointed, he retreats to his chamber. Muttering, he swings his cloak upon a hook before the fire…

Love is Not Sweet - Gerri Leen

Image
You made my quest yours...
I hated you when we first met Cocky and so sure of yourself A wannabe knight in a shining penis car with racing stripes "Give you a lift?" you said, your eyes narrowing In a way that said you'd given plenty of other women lifts In this steed of metal and leather Normally, I'd have ignored you Except I needed to get somewhere To him my everlasting love, my fiancé, my dream Who might or might not be down here alone
At a conference he'd said would bore me At a hotel it turned out didn't exist Even though he pretended to be there on the mobile Full of the right words of missing me Loving me But you didn't need to know that I weighed my options for my quest Taxis were in short supply, too many conventions the porter said So I got in your metallic blue car, feeling the back of my thighs Stick to the seat, hot in the summer sun You had A/C but you wanted the wind, the top staying down Wind blowing my hair as you grinned The smile of the truly vacant or thos…

The Mountain's Heart - Deborah L. Davitt

Image
He'd known that something waited there for him...
The miner carved a path to the mountain’s heart, though everyone said he was mad to think that he’d hit a seam in this rough, unpromising patch— not a trace of color in any stone he dredged up from the depths. But he’d felt something when he first looked at its face, a tremor in his hands, a twist low in his gut, and he’d known that something waited there for him.

Nine years he dug, propping and shoring; spent each night wrapped in the dull ache of work-sore muscles and delicious exhaustion; found just enough glistening opals to pay for the pumps he needed when the boiling water escaped the rock— a narrow escape for him, dropping pick and running up the shaft on scalded feet.

Still, though the mountain seemed intent on his demise, sometimes trapping him at his claim for months with a snare of winter’s snow, and never paid him enough wages to offer more than a penitent’s diet of bread and beans, he persevered.

He grew thinner by the year, slower to words w…