Brierilee Writes

Madeline-Ashleigh and the Flame Tree Flowers

“Watcha doing, Maddy?”

I just about jumped out of my skin. I did drop my phone, which thumped to the floor, pulling my headphones along with it.

Issy-Rose was right in my ear. Her barbie dolls were lying abandoned on the floor, and she was standing next to the couch, leaning into me.

“Just… watching how to do a spell,” I said, and picked up my phone.

The video was still playing. It had got to the point where the witch was standing in a rain of rose petals.

“Ooh, cool!” Issy-Rose said, “Can you do that? Can I do that?”

“Um, I haven’t tried yet, but probably? Hopefully?” I said, “Do you want to see how it’s done?”

“Yes!”

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Madeline-Ashleigh, a young witch, discovers a new spell to create a rain of flower petals. She decides to conjure up flame tree flowers. What could possibly go wrong?

1,819 words

I-M-S-C-A-R-E-D

Available on AntipodeanSF

I-M-S-C-A-R-E-D

The planchette moved across the Ouija board, my fingers barely touching it.

“How can I help?” I asked my empty lounge room, “What do you want?”

Because ghosts want something, right? They hang around because they have unfinished business, something they need before they can move on.

I-M-S-C-A-R-E-D

“I know you’re scared. What do you want?”

To stop being scared, probably. But if I was going to help the ghost, I needed a bit more to work with.

Look at me, sitting there with a Ouija board, trying to figure out how to help a ghost move on. A week ago, I didn’t even believe in ghosts.

986 words

Witches? What Witches?

Available on Banksia Journal

Local folklore also had it that in the not-so-distant past, when magic still ran wild, The Tower had been home to witches. Some even said it still was; the reclusive Ms Westwood and her two daughters were, after all, undeniably strange. At least one of them could speak to birds, the residents of Birstwick on Rye would tell you.

The Witch Hunter records, though, held no evidence that Ms Westwood and her daughters were witches, despite multiple investigations.

Of course, that wasn’t to say there wouldn’t be further investigations. Witchcraft was, after all, a serious crime. One couldn’t be too careful.

4,566 words

The Spindle on a Spinning Wheel

The shutters were closed, the door locked. The small cottage was illuminated by the dim, flickering light of oil lanterns, and what little mid-afternoon sunlight could creep through the shutters.

A table stood to the side of the room, with neat rows of wool rolags set out across it. Beside the table, a woman by the name of Tiffany pried up the floorboards. She set these floorboards aside, revealing the entrance to a hidden cellar. Tiffany set a ladder in the opening, then took hold of the nearest lantern, and then climbed down into the cellar.

It was a small, cramped space, filled with dark shadows, dust and cobwebs. Boxes and shelves filled with jars and bottles were packed into the room. Tiffany shifted aside some boxes, revealing an empty space. She froze.

Then she yelled, “William!”

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A fairy curses a princess to be wounded by a spindle, and fall down dead. A King outlaws spindles. A spinster loses her spinning wheel.

621 words

The Glass Slipper on the Stair

She was gone.

Over the muted sounds of the balls, Prince Edmund heard footsteps behind him. He turned, and watched Wizard Linford approach.

“Who was she?” the wizard asked.

“I don’t know. I didn’t even get her name. I thought… but she just ran off…” the prince gazed down the steps, “I just wanted to ask her name…”

Prince Edmund sat down in a dejected slump. With creaking joints, Wizard Linford sat beside him, and put a hand on his shoulder.

A few steps below, something glinted in the silver moonlight.

Was that…?

Prince Edmund scrambled back to his feet, dislodging Wizard Linford’s hand. He descended those few steps.

It was a shoe.

Hope flickered in the prince.

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A prince meets a young woman at a ball. At midnight, she disappears, leaving behind nothing but a glass slipper on the stair. The prince enlists the help of a wizard to find this mysterious young woman.

3,064 words

The Turtle in the Lanshi

Hanguang-Jun was an excellent teacher, really. Easily Jingyi’s favourite. And normally he really, really would be paying attention. It’s just… today, he just could not focus.

He kept getting distracted by the turtle sitting on the desk behind Hanguang-Jun.

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Wei Wuxian wins a porcelain turtle for Lan Wangji in a ring toss game. They decide, much to the juniors’ confusion, to put it in the Lanshi.

Based on chapter 126 Extra – Dream Come True

1,625 words

Wei Wuxian and the Damsel of Annual Blossoms

Wei Wuxian was sitting peacefully on the end of the pier, which stretched out over a lake still blooming with the last lotus flowers of the season, when his reading was interrupted.

“What are you doing?” Jiang Cheng asked, standing over him.

“Memorising poetry, of course,” Wei Wuxian replied, without looking up from his book.

“Memorising poetry?” Jiang Cheng said, with far too much incredulity. Wei Wuxian liked poetry. “What are you doing that for?”

“So I can see the Damsel of Annual Blossoms, of course,”

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In which Wei Wuxian embarks on a quest to irritate the poetry-loving spirit, the damsel of annual blossoms, into revealing her face to him.

Inspired by Allure, part 3 (Exiled Rebels Scanlations):

“Whenever he came to the garden, he would recite the poetry wrong on purpose so that the Damsel became angered, hit him with flowers, and threw him out. When he woke up, he would crawl back inside and continue to recite incorrectly. After this repeated for more than twenty times, he finally saw the Damsel’s face. After this, he would go about everywhere praising how beautiful she looked. However, the Damsel was rather irritated as well. She did not show up for quite a while. Whenever he came, she would pound him witha rain of flowers.”

3,401 words

Now Everyone Thinks I Support the Yiling Patriarch?

Jianghu Forums > Advice

I WORE A RED AND BLACK HANFU, AND NOW EVERYONE THINKS I SUPPORT THE YILING PATRIARCH?

A while back, while I was haggling over a watermelon (wearing the beautiful red and black hanfu), this big, burly man carrying a sword starts glaring at me. Which was already pretty unnerving! But then, when I tried to move on to the next fruit seller, this guy, hand on his sword hilt, stops me and says,

“Do you support the Yiling Patriarch?”

Please help! Who is the Yiling Patriarch, and why do people think I support him?

3,095 words