Kiss me, Celia. Kiss me, Kate. To each of the other nine, rain your love on my face like thick moss. We have spun our webs poorly each day, waking to pass eeking time, fly-poison slow in the light hours. Who was he to follow us past the silver and gold forests, to crack off each branch with no goal other than to separate and wed?
The diamond grove is frosty by the river. Our nighttime revels misunderstood, we twelve, with eleven, each one for twelve, were envied by commoners without vision, hiding our woman kissing dances, sister loving dances, horizontal what is wrong with women touching women dances. And why must we contrive these twelve fantasy princes for the benefit of an old soldier who does not know what to tell the king when he asks?
He should not have come invisible (what's more at all), or listened to the leechy hag who made a point to tell him.
I hope his eyes were wide as ponds that night! I hope his mind was straight as rails and bent. I may marry him at last my dears, but will not stop this dance with you for him.
Kiss me, Celia. Kiss me, Kate. To each of the other nine rain your love on my face like thick moss, weave a lattice fast enough to blind the inobservant
We have spun our webs poorly each day, but soon can wear the mourner's garb of black-- Black, as we wander the ramparts where they'll say there's a curse on every family bride. Black, when our husbands sadly pass us one by one in pine coffins.
And black it shall be with a cunning dash of red. Because we will be spiders, sisters, and soldiers will be flies.
Only fools would follow into that sinking bed, where we touch lengthily, pass ourselves from arm to arm like flax, We are bounteous. We are beautiful. We were harming no one.
Now, we must ask him into our parlors, make haste to fly this kingdom by night.
So you can shut that door and lock it behind you, youngest.
Among ourselves, and that alone, can we be free.
About the Author
Heather Fowler received her M.A. in English and Creative Writing from Hollins University in May of 1997 and currently resides in her hometown of San Diego, CA. Her stories have appeared or been selected for publication in the following journals: Mississippi Review online (October 2007); The See You Next Tuesday Anthology (2006), Frigg: A Magazine of Fiction and Poetry (Winter 2006), the muse apprentice guild (October 2002), artisan, a journal of craft (September 2002), Literary PotPourri (May 2002), Exquisite Corpse (May, 2001), The Barcelona Review (May, 2001), Quercus Review (May, 2001), Penumbra (May 2001), B & A New Fiction (Jan. 2001), Barbaric Yawp (Dec. 2000), Zoetrope All-Story Extra (June 2001, October and December 1999), Mindkites (December 1999, and June 2000).
My curse is my gift. My nightmares, deep sensitivity, and emotional instability gives the best (and most uncomfortable) inspirations I could ever have. For me, art is passion - and visions are the mirror, which show my feelings and connect me with the rest of the world. Read More...
Heather Fowler received her M.A. in English and Creative Writing from Hollins University in May of 1997 and currently resides in her hometown of San Diego, CA. Her stories have appeared or been selected for publication in the following journals: Mississippi Review online (October 2007); The See You Next Tuesday Anthology (2006), Frigg: A Magazine of Fiction and Poetry (Winter 2006), the muse apprentice guild (October 2002), artisan, a journal of craft (September 2002), Literary PotPourri (May 2002), Exquisite Corpse (May, 2001), The Barcelona Review (May, 2001), Quercus Review (May, 2001), Penumbra (May 2001), B & A New Fiction (Jan. 2001), Barbaric Yawp (Dec. 2000), Zoetrope All-Story Extra (June 2001, October and December 1999), Mindkites (December 1999, and June 2000). 
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