The Lost Queen
by Robert M. Velkym

   The lady in black stood on the small rise with her hands raised to the heavens. She cocked her head and began to chant in some tongue long since dead to the minds of humans. The chant quickened into a throbbing tone of a heart beat.

   The sky darkened and menacing black clouds gathered overhead. The lady began to spin in place contorting with the chanting.

   "Come to me, my friends of long ago. I am your queen, the queen of the Pixies!!"

   A crack of thunder and a flash of lightning burst across the sky making night into the day.

   "Yes. Yes. Yes! Yes! YES!!" She raved and the air became loud with the beat of little wings. She closed her eyes and began another incantation. The air crackled with energy and her body lofted into the air. Her spasms and twists rack her form. The entire frame of her body shrinking to half size only for her to collapse to the ground.

   She braced herself, rising cautiously from the ground, and stretched. Two wings of clear material depicting Armageddon folded out from her back. The lightning crashed. The rumble of thunder moving the night like fire in a blistering hearth.

   "My children, come to me, it is TIME. "With that she rose to the air in one swift beat of her new wings. Voices began to vociferate. They grew ever closer until a thousand little bodies surround her in a circle. The circle spun and bound into a ravel of singing and merry making. She lifted her voice to the gods of old and laughed in triumph.

   "Our time is here!" Her voice became drowned out by the cheers of the little people.

   "The time to take over the world is here, prepare my children." She screamed in a resonating screech. The circle closed in on her.

   "Stop it. What are you doing?!?" She wailed as the little people swarm with their little knives....

   In some tiny town in America, someone practices the rites of old, unaware the old ways don't wish to be revived. One day in the end of time, they will return to reclaim what was once theirs.... for now…

   A crumpled and broken form lies upon a knoll, waiting for life to return to a forgotten body and lost soul.