The Sacrifice

Beneath the eternal circle of the white full-moon, a ring of highland menhir stones stood guard around the sacred ground of sacrifice. Clear stars cut through the sky like a swath of iridescent crystals that shone down upon the land with a cold, unearthly light. The chilled air of autumn whistled through the fields of grass. No sound, other than that of the wind and the distant sea, penetrates the circle of stones.

It was there, beside the altar that the sacrifice waited. She had the youth of a maiden: smooth, flawless ivory skin; small breasts, firm yet supple; a perfect figure unmarred by time; and a confidence of immortality only the naivety of youth could bring. Her beauty rivalled the glory of the landscape itself. Her eyes held colour of blooming heather, her hair was a magnificent crown of gilded tresses falling to a pair of shapely thighs, and her heart-shaped face held the beguiling essence of one of the fae.

She was shivering, but not from the bitter night. It was what lay in the darkness beyond the tall stone guardians that sent tremors of terror through her soul. And yet she quietly awaited her destiny…

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Dark Moon Castle

An erotic short story by Sharma Wild.

Sarah rested the broad basket against her hip and adjusted her kirtle. The steep climb had caused the loose, flowing garment to twist around at the neck and fall askew.

“I have to rest”, she said faintly to herself and sank down on the hard, grey brittlerock of the mountain side and set the empty basket down beside her.

It was cold up on the steeps, the air too thin to hold any heat. But the sun was warm, a bare six hours from setting. Its golden light streamed back at her from the eastern horizon, warm on her bare arms, neck and face, warming the broken rock shelf on which she sat.

Sarah gazed out over the wide plains of grass and soft sweeping hills that spread out below her. She could see her village over to the right; tiny, far away, at the foot of the mountain and the edge of the plain.

Knowing she still had a long way to go, Sarah sighed and got up. Her mind wandered back to Merith, her sister; the beautiful, fair-haired Merith that was going to be wed to the son of one of the village’s council men. Merith who had been given sixteen dresses to choose between… Envy panged Sarah’s heart.

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A Moment Before the Storm

Written by Sharma Wild. First published on Thursday 23 September 2010.

An Erotic fantasy short story set in the world of Annwen. Arthos Merddyn, an apprentice Knight of Avalon, meets Prince Emrys, the young Captain of Ithindor, on the eve of battle.

The party was a lavish affair. Fires lit the skies with the brilliance of daylight while lords and ladies, dressed in their finery, fluttered about like butterflies or rested on marble benches, drinking wine and nibbling on delicacies, talking and laughing, playing the games of court with much finesse and elegance.

It was strange to think that on the other side of the high walls that encompassed the royal palace men prepared themselves to ride into to battle, kissed their wives and children and told them that they loved them, looked upon those dear faces for perhaps the last time.

Arthos Myrddin found that thought strangely disturbing and a frown shadowed his smooth forehead. He glanced at his master. The Knight was talking to a noble looking young man dressed in silk and velvet embroidered with goldthread and adorned with pearls and jewels. It was for him this party was being held. Eamon, King of Ithindor, Guardian of Caer Arian, the White Citadel, had announced that his oldest son, Brennain, would be Crown Prince and lead the army into battle.

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