La Pollera Colora – Charlie Zaa

Greetings from Panama!  Yes, your reclusive writer is latina, and by the time she returns to the states, she shall be a sexy bronze!  …Or not.  Ha, anyways, I was working on the chapter but it is still short of being finished.  Just to prove I’m not full of shit, I’m giving you folks a preview.  Till next time.

To call it pain would’ve been…incorrect. It transcended that base definition, that shallow understanding. It was intense, it was debilitating, yes. But pain? No. More like…


Her veins were the guardian’s veins; her thoughts, the guardian’s thoughts.

The spiritual creature’s flesh was not immediately invasive. They first canvased her skin. Then they pushed past the muscles–split them, pierced them–to get to the organs inside. Elmiryn felt the tendrils in her chest, knew they wrapped and mingled with her heart, her lungs, her stomach, her spine. She spasmed. Tried to scream and failed for the guardian had filled her there too, and squirmed in her throat.

Was this rape? Was this murder?

Elmiryn’s sensations became unquantifiable. How best to describe the feeling of being killed and born at once? For with the euphoric domination of her body, came also the parting of her mind. Things that were not hers, bits and pieces, like the shining trinkets of Nyx’s bag, came spilling in.

A new beginning. It was the parting of a land drowned by rain and hail. A place was carved in the Earth, and with it, a duty to sustain life. Her sisters, the clouds, said unto her, “You are the veins of this land,” and she gushed.


Fleeing through snow, breath a ghost, a dark form ahead of her as angry cries chased at her back. The one before her was not running from her, but with her.  

Barely old enough. None of it was fair. She knew it wasn’t, knew it in her soul.  

So she ran.

They wouldn’t take another brother away from her.

Subject to change, remember. Or subject to deletion, based on my editorial fancies. Heh, heh…


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