It couldn’t be helped: the ember, the flame. The magic sparked in my veins like a line of firecrackers going off under my skin, and all at once I am aware of every empty space between my bones as the energy travels from behind my eyes, running over the hollows behind my ears, between the branches of my collarbones, curling under my armpits, tickling my funny bone at my elbow and pooling in a spool at the insides of my wrists, glowing a pale, Halloween green, pulsing in time with my heartbeat. I clench my fists and a button of magic slips into my palms. I open my hand, scattering a shield around me.
Let them try to take me now.
Do I know what’s going on here? Haven’t the foggiest. But I was struck by this artwork, the expression on her face–the pure defiance in her eyes and boldness in her stance. I love how her hands are out and chin down, saying, “Come at me.” I’d love to write a story about her character.