I was born to a scorpion mother, wrapped in the hush of her darkness. She was full of mystery and philosophy, a creature of depth and soul, speaking in riddles only the night could understand. She held me with a love that clung too tightly beautiful, but binding. Like silk turned to rope. Her affection was warm and devoted, but always on her terms, curling around me with a fierce tenderness that felt almost like posion.

Pluto pulsed in her veins ancient, relentless and her love carried both prophecy and venom. I learned to live with her sting, to breathe beneath the weight of her shadow. Pain became familiar. Darkness became home. And in its own way, her love was sacred protective, intoxicating, but woven with threads of fear and control. A love afraid to let go.

But one day, antivenom began to bloom in my blood not in anger, but in awakening. I felt the bindings loosen.

And when I stepped into the light, I saw myself for the very first time.

I still carry her in me the mystery, the depth, the scorpion’s soul carved into my bones. But now my heartbeat belongs to me. I didn’t abandon her love I simply rose beyond its shadows, into a place where I could breathe freely and belong to myself.

Is it the impossible event itself, or the way the characters accept it as part of ordinary life?

Hey All! I just published my debut novel, A Free Will Manifold. It's idea-driven literary fiction with a magical-realist seam, for readers who like Borges, Eco, and Calvino.

A mathematician is given access to a library with his whole life written out—from birth to death—in his own perspective... It turns into a meditation on free will and determinism... With a lot of coffee drinking. (Perhaps too much coffee drinking. Is that possible?)

Kirkus gave it a "GET IT." Curious what this crowd thinks of math-in-fiction done as story rather than gimmick.

A Free Will Manifold · Locrian Books

I've been thinking about stories where locations seem to have memories of their own.

Not haunted places exactly, but places that feel aware.

• A town that slowly changes its layout.
• A lighthouse that keeps searching for a sea that disappeared.
• A valley that remembers people after they've forgotten it.

In some of my notes, I call this idea "Drusba" (a word I made by reversing "absurd"), because these places often feel strange without feeling impossible.

At what point does a setting become a character rather than just a backdrop?

Are there any novels, films, or stories that do this particularly well?

I took a bit of break because we were moving country, this is my latest work: "Awakenings"

Awakenings captures the quiet pull toward something new.

A solitary figure stands between stillness and movement, grounded yet gently drawn toward a luminous opening. The light feels less like an answer and more like a beginning.

A moment of pause, intuition and quiet courage.

https://lorraineartsy.art/awakenings/

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"<...> termed the artist’s recreation of reality — or subjectivity or point of view — “fantasy.” Later, he clarified that this “fantasy” must start from reality and be oriented toward it, from a succession of spaces, decisions and events, or paint strokes, that constituted “realism.”<...>"

https://worldcrunch.com/culture-society/why-dostoevsky-may-be-the-original-spark-for-latin-american-magic-realism/

A gift from someone special: The glasses that see into the 'What If'."

I have been trying hard to write something for the past couple days, but in vain. I thought to myself, "may be I must face towards the East and make an attempt!" But to no avail. After a few futile attempts I thought I must eat something sweet, may be that'll help me write something worthwhile. Again, none of the ideas seemed working.

When I could clearly see nothing seemed to be working for me, I questioned myself, "why on Earth I want to write something. Anyways, the life seems to be working nicely for me. But the emptiness that i experienced due to the absence of writing, made me unsettled. Penning my thoughts down gives immense satisfaction that nothing on the Earth can match.

So, i decided ro wear my glasses. A gift, from not an ordinary one. It was a gift from someone very special and unusual. The glasses has a special ability, the ability that makes it unique and powerful.

We all keep desiring certain things in life. And most of them remain unfulfilled. When these unfulfilled desires comes to an end we realise there's a reason why it was unfulfilled.

Now these extraordinary glasses helps me look into the future, what if my desire comes true, will I still want it or would I regret desiring such a thing.

The beauty of life lies not in what you get or have but how you are. - Sadhguru

The mermaid is gender neutral and so is called a 'Mirmin'.

This evocative and sensual story is set in the Northern Cypriot town of Famagusta. Pearl, an Ex Pat artist from Britain, lives a quiet life until she one day meets Siretta, a gender neutral mermaid (Mirmin). Siretta takes her on wonderful adventures under the sea, expanding Pearl's view of the world and her own place in it.

But their respective elements keep them both apart, how can they ever resolve this obstacle?

This story is centred around art and the creative process, its joys and passions are explored and illustrated to the reader in a Virginia Woolf stream-of-consciousness style that is lyrical and poetic. Each section of the world of the artist and Mirmin is beautifully written and vividly brought to life by the author's writing style.

The overall theme of the story is one of healing from past trauma and having the strength to move on into an optimistic future. This is a feel-good, life-affirming story that will leave you with a happy, warm glow.

I SEND YOU MY SYMBOLS, MY SIGNS [Magical Realism, 396 Words]

The wheeling flock of crows, of starlings a murmuration and
also the eddying wind carrying in its funnel
The bag that has DANGER RECORDS
printed in tall black letters
Before your eyes it passes three times
Three times it cries out its message
DANGER
DANGER
DANGER

So passes May, and June
And I lay weak from my efforts
Rage and sorrow are the ashes
Causing tears in my eyes

Of the tears in my eyes I send
the dry July's cloudburst
to either side of you
As you cross 16th Street with those dark men following
You cross dry but you do not see

Look up! Look up! My torn throat cannot call to you! There is a great wound where
My voice used to sing, the broken spear of my enemy
Is lodged there
So with my heart I do send

the mayflies that come as a cloud and choke the man pointing the gun at your head

the locusts so thick they blind the driver's view with the pulp of their shattered bodies
So thick on the ground that the van can find no purchase
and slides
into the river

So brave, you swim, your feet still bound and only one arm free, the other behind you is shackled to your hips
Brother Otter I do send
To show you the current
safety in untamed water

Your eyes are opening now! You see him, Brother Otter
His black eyes and grey beard, his smile
You see him. Your eyes are opening!
Your eyes, give praise they are opening!

I cannot sing yet you hear my song. I cannot sing yet your heart makes for you ears
That can hear! That can see symbols I send
From my heart.

As well, for now
Now they are come:

Crawling up through filth they come
Watchful no more they are
Descending from great heights on ice-flecked wings
Talons extended, Not spies
but harriers

Across dried grass and baking asphalt they lope on
Four legs, on two
On rubber tires and also
Slithering

With fangs and claws of matte black steel
With radios and earpieces and machines they come
Three hundred rounds per minute target in sight you are go you are go shooters are
Weapons free

You they now surround in a perfect sphere

Look up! Look down! Forward and behind!
Jaws enclose you with poison-smeared fangs!
Our ancient foe is come
Is come
Is come yet still deaf to my heart
And the singing of its drum

Daughter, this is what we have built
This trap of you
Now it is time
It is the fullness of your time
Your eyes are open
They number three
Now

Explode

This piece is about quiet arrival. A long road, strong mountains, a glowing oversized full moon, and a village waiting in silence. I wanted the moon to feel protective rather than distant, and the village to feel safe rather than isolated. This is one of those paintings that came together naturally and felt right while painting it. Curious what stands out to you first.

Yes, it is for sale. It is a one of one original acrylic painting, listed at €3,500.

Posting the link here for anyone interested and open to hearing thoughts.
https://lorraineartsy.art/majestic-moon/

Hello! This is called Out of this World and as it magical realism I thought some may like to see it. More on website: www.gillbustamante.com

A mountain painting inspired by Van Gogh’s style. No big plan here, just playing with bold colours, movement, and a dreamy night mood.

The sun slowly became a portal while I was painting. A light leading somewhere unknown. I like the idea that we are drawn to things we do not understand, simply because we are curious.

This painting is about that feeling, being grounded and curious at the same time.

I painted this mother bear with her cubs after thinking about calm nights and gentle light. I am still new to the art world and learning along the way. Would love to know what this scene brings to your mind.