#writingathome

~if we were having coffee~

I would ask you how you set up your writing spot at home? Do you have a bright, sun-softened room that lends itself to calm energy? Is there an old vintage desk, or a new offering considered “farmhouse” style? Do you stack papers on it, on one corner? Do you keep your phone nearby or stash it across the room so that you can stay focused? Do you have carpet, wood-flooring, or perhaps fancy tile?…

Hyasuko loved to travel to the past. Scratch that, he loved it to the point 

many authorities in the Bellanÿ Empire, ranging from the Vizier in the Shajaak Kingdom to the Emir of Alwaelli-Ein (or whatever that was was called) had ordered for warning posters to be posted and shared in every single communication system in that world and the next. 

The half Snow creature sighed with a bored expression, perched atop one of the highly detailed minarets. To be so close to the main Dumeinir-El-Ein mosque relics and not being able to touch them...It made him wish he didn’t have that turquoise ring pierced on his right hand pinkie. 

Curse that wife of the Duke Von Tifon and her cunning...! 

Normally he would be relieved the Duke Von Tifon of Shunamari wasn’t paying any attention - or sending some of the cowardly freelancers - to spy in the Snow Oni. 

There was something new here. There was a young man working in the minaret. His singing voice was beautiful.  Even though the prayers he sung were nothing like Hyasuko’s growl-like power ballads, (the tempting vocals of the Snow Oni so smoky many small emirates had forbidden his gramophone vinyl discs) Hyasuko saw the potential in the twenty two year old man. Hanging from one of the mosque’s many chandelier, Hyasuko had discovered Rashid was twenty two and still single.  

“What the fuck are you doing?” a familiar voice with a strong Alwaelli accent scolded, breaking the Oni of his reverie.   

“Well, well, if it isn’t young Rashid...” Hyasuko licked his lips, feeling his trousers tighter.  

“You’re that bard!” 

Jumping to the small veranda of the minaret, Hyasuko hovered a few inches from the ground, a mischievous and flirting smile on his dark olive cheeks. 

“Murakami Hyasuko, at your service.” 

“How....How! How can you...”

“For Heaven and the Twelve Underworlds sake, I’m an Oni, not a vampire..” The Oni rumbled, the baritone voice so different from Rashid’s tenor.  “These mosques of yours are beautiful...I can stay here and not get my feet burned.”  

“Get out of the Lord’s house, demon!”  Rashid spat in a snarling tone. 

“What if I don’t?”  

“I dare you to step one more foot on this minaret...” 

To the young prayer singer’s shock, Hyasuko did exactly, a purr on his voice.