Arts and Humanities Commons^™

Nuru And The Doves, Debra Shrimplin

The Mythic Circle

No abstract provided.

Stories Grow Larger In The Night, Sarah Berti

The Mythic Circle

in the morning fold your wings but in the dark go out

C.S. Lewis's Meditation Over "The Book Of The Leoun", Joe R. Christopher

The Mythic Circle

One wonders what did Chaucer mean to make?! A version out of French, for versing’s sake?

The Black Eyes Of Ulspruth-Dimot, Lee Clark Zumpe

The Mythic Circle

A misty morning met the awakening village of Madichi. Dawn made pale the cloudy skies, and upon the breeze cascading down from the mountains was a subtle chill.

Editors' Introductions, The Editors

The Mythic Circle

No abstract provided.

Two In One, David A. Sparenberg

The Mythic Circle

As I looked to the high ground, which was indeed shaped in the semblance of a sublime albeit miniature mountain, imagine my amazement to hold in view the monumental figure of a curious two-headed deity.

You Passed Me The Story, Sarah Berti

The Mythic Circle

in the dark! you passed me the story

Mythic Circle #43, The Editors

The Mythic Circle

Is it just us, or was 2020-2021 the worst year of the past hundred years? Infections, deaths, lockdowns, and quarantines too long for human endurance just kept on keeping on, intensified by squabbles between proponents of collective health measures (masks, vaccines, social distancing) on one side and of individual personal liberties, regardless of the social and health impact, on the other. But through it all, artists continued to think, dream, and produce new work.

The Tale Of The Troll Maiden And The Cobbler, David Gilman Frederick

The Mythic Circle

Once, in the lands across the sea, there was a cobbler. Unremarkable as such an occupation may be here, in those lands it is one of high esteem. They have rugged cliffs to scale, unknown steppes to cross, jagged boulders, spiny hedgehogs, mudflats, cacti, flints, vines, thorns— much of that land, I have heard, is picturesque, with sweeping vistas and forests that anticipate the colors of the sunset.

Welcome To The Busty Wench, E. Clarence Peterson

The Mythic Circle

Toby’s step down from the coach was greeted by the damp embrace of cobblestone puddles. Deceptively deep and cold, they were none too fresh, either.

Emhain Ablach, Joshua S. Fullman

The Mythic Circle

A slate horizon keeps captive none who’d gaze with eyes eternal,

Tricked By The Queen Of Fey, Ella Wallsworth-Bell

The Mythic Circle

Before going to the pub, I take a quick stroll to pluck up courage. Turn along the lane out of the village, my smart shoes softly tap-tapping on the tarmac. A few early stars shine bright in the clear autumn sky and my stomach does somersaults.

The Three Kindreds, Jonathan Rolfe

The Mythic Circle

High are the Elves, and high their works, And bright was Earth beneath their hand,

Two Souls On A Shore, Geoffrey Reiter

The Mythic Circle

The elf and the Kuparean man were hungry as they walked along the shore of the island. They did not remain at the rock-choked shallows that had disemboweled their trireme.

How The Dryad And The Naiad Got Or Didn't Get Together, Kevan Kenneth Bowkett

The Mythic Circle

Once, in the river-land of Sopenya, near Lake Chellu, there lived a naiad and a dryad. They were a boy and a girl, respectively.

Mythic Circle #42, The Editors

The Mythic Circle

The Mythic Circle is a creative writing journal devoted to fantasy-inspired creative works; it has been published by the Mythopoeic Society since 1987, and earlier versions of the Society’s creative writing efforts extend to Mythril (1971 to 1980) and Mythellany (1981 to 1987). These journals have now been archived in their entirety at https://dc.swosu.edu/mythsoc/ through the efforts of the Society’s archivist, Phillip Fitzsimmons, and digital assistant Benjamin Dressler. All but the current issue may be downloaded for free, and the current issue may be purchased as a digital download or ordered as a print-on-demand title from Amazon.

In its thirty-three …

Contributors, Westview Staff

Westview

No abstract provided.

Clean Slate, Richard Dinges Jr.

Westview

No one wonders why we return each morning, eyes half-shuddered, mouths yawning

Irises Planted On A Grave, Gordon Grice

Westview

The irises lick the wind with fragrant tongues…

On The Move, Jack Cooper

Westview

Arriving I caught the bus to the beach under a blue and white sky and sat behind five or six riders

Part Ii, Diane Glancy

Westview

The Erring Need of Narrative

Rains, James B. Nicola

Westview

One kind of rain wears moccasins and comes in quiet as a ghost then leaves your cheeks-nose-forehead moist with an unremarked kiss.

Sunday Morning, Matthew C. Brennan

Westview

Back home from Kroger, I sense that something’s terribly wrong: five squad cars flashing red cordon the street, and yellow tape extends from a fencepost to a worksite shed across from us.

Birds Of Light, Jack Cooper

Westview

Autumn streams of rain hit the maple tree and red and yellow leaves wing off in all directions

Festina Lente, Jack Cooper

Westview

I once laid a stone path in the yard and unearthed a spadefoot toad in hibernation

Interactive Sonnet, James B. Nicola

Westview

This is the place where I’m supposed to say a thing I have to say, and soundly, then expound upon it like a pregnant hen with fourteen eggs she cannot help but lay.

Lampyridae, Donna Emerson

Westview

As I walk down the June steps of the farmhouse, fireflies flash close to my face.

On Wings, Richard Dinges Jr.

Westview

Each day, more flies descend and buzz my porch. I bathe.

Part One, Diane Glancy

Westview

The Man Who Loves Dreamsicles

Prayers Coagulate Around A Woman On Her Porch, Henry D. Goldkamp

Westview

Southern static : pink tongue : dewy ears : seagulls yelling Wal-Mart