Rowan Finley
Bio
Father. Academic Advisor. Musician. Writer. My real name is Jesse Balogh.
Stories (1195)
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Berganashio - Chapter 7. Content Warning.
The totters had acclimated very nicely to living with the fairies. The only fairy that they really interacted with much was Jovie, and they greatly enjoyed her company in the evenings. They continued to share stories with Jovie many evenings and she also did her best to share stories that they would find entertaining. She was always so kind, sincere, and was always ready to giggle about something. It was nice for the totter children to have a motherly presence. Jovie had never had any children of her own, so in a way, she felt grateful to have the two totter children around. One day the totters were out by the river catching more fish. Sister totter was busy packing the fish in the cloth sack, as was their daily routine. She felt especially happy and carefree. Mindlessly, she started to hum and then sing a few lines of an old song that her Momma used to sing to her when she was just a couple years old. Before she realized what she'd done, her Papa had risen from the water and heard her. His heart felt like it had jumped out of his chest.
By Rowan Finley 2 years ago in Fiction
Berganashio - Chapter 6
“It’s been three weeks since Chief Hatan’s burial,” Podder stated. He was the second oldest meerbird in the mob and one of the three council members. High up in one of the large trees that grew above the burrow holes, was the counsel nest. The counsel was always comprised of the chief of the mob and the two eldest meerbirds. They sat pensively together. Grinyella, the oldest meerbird of the mob, took a slow puff on her thin wooden pipe.
By Rowan Finley 2 years ago in Fiction
Berganashio - Chapter 5
Not terribly far from the meerbirds, there were nefarious sea-wolfs onboard a ship. Most of their time was spent catching and eating their prey. The rest of the creatures in the land shuddered at the thought of their continual cruelties. It was overcast and it was raining lightly. As the wind blew powerfully, the ship bobbed up and down on the waves. The ship was bleak and tattered in appearance and the anchor had been down at the bottom of the seabed for days.
By Rowan Finley 2 years ago in Fiction
