Kristine E. Brickey

pluviophile On this rainy morning, a new word in my vocabulary bank. How did I not know this word, a word that describes me so perfectly? I will add it to my author bios: pluviophile-a lover of rain, a finder of peace in rainy days.  When I was young, my mother would call me in from the branches of my secret apple tree nook when the drops began their descent. Her call was easy to ignore, and I would nestle a bit deeper and watch the sky change hues and try to count the droplets. As an adult, in charge of my own self, I no longer climb into trees, leaving that to my younger mini-me. However, when I wake to soothing drops on shingled roof overhead, a smile begins even before my eyes open wide.  Rainy days promise hot mugs of coffee, snuggled in chocolate brown softness of my couch nest, pen in hand, words flowing across the pages.  Rainy days make for sleepy dogs, peaceful hours of watching the latest novel unfold in my mind as I read hundreds of pages ...

Mo Rúnsearc (roon-hark) secret love Lulled by her maid, Aileen’s, gentle brushstrokes upon her thick auburn hair, Maebh sighed and closed her  lavender  eyes. Sparks crackled with each stroke, bright spots in the candlelit room. She was so relaxed, that Maebh didn’t understand what was happening as her small seaside town’s warning bells chimed. Aileen snatched her by the elbow and hastily shoved her into the small hidey spot used since she was young. After an unnecessary reminder to stay quiet, Aileen scurried to find safety elsewhere.  Hidden in the recesses of her closet, Maebh watched through a sliver of space as a large, swarthy man moved through her doorway. Though she knew he couldn’t see her, she instinctively pulled back. All Maebh needed to do was wait silently for Aileen to retrieve her once the thieving marauders had gone.  He stopped in front of the mirrored table where she’d so recently sat, and Maebh saw him pick up her delicate strand of u...