“What do you see when you look at me, old man?” Cain rumbled.
His companion sat a bit straighter and looked up to him. “Mmm?” A gap-toothed smile showed for a second, and the old man seemed about to throw out a witty remark. He paused a moment then, and perhaps sensing the deeper meaning to the question, took a longer look, pensively stroking his snowy white beard. Cain tried to see himself as he might appear through the villager’s eyes: a great dragon, fifty feet in length, with scales the color of deeply-tanned leather and a pair of deep, ruddy-red eyes.
The old man cleared his throat. “I see an old dragon,” he said, “well past his prime.” The man stroked a palm aimlessly over the worn wood of his walking stick and loudly sniffed. “A dragon who stays too long in his...
[ Continued ... ]

When the world all around me is a deep, brilliant blue and I feel I can touch the tallest mountaintop, that is when I’m truly alive. What joy there is in diving and turning and spiraling and forever and ever and again climbing until I am so high that I am lost amongst that brilliant sea, with a world grown so small and fragile below! And if I might fall, it is only so I can sweep my wings out and feel the rush, the exhilaration as I cry out my joy to that starlit sky above me.

When clouds think to bull in to my domain, I dive through them like an arrow through paper, to laugh and flick and lash at their scattering essences all around me. I am lord of these skies, and I revel in it! When it comes, the rain can be a blessing, a crisp breath of fresh air amidst the night. ...
[ Continued ... ]

She settled into the dark of the room with barely a whisper of sound, smiling to see him asleep on the bed by the corner. Moonlight shone in from the window, casting a soft glow that rested on the sparse furnishings and bare walls. When she sat by his side, he did not stir, save to nestle his head deeper into the pillow. He had grown lean and slim since last she'd seen him...the man now so different from the soft little boy she once remembered. She lovingly caressed the back of his head before sliding her fingertips down the long braid of his hair. It was tightly-woven and very neat, and she was pleased to see the care he had taken in keeping it so.

She leaned in close, then, gazing longingly at him. She could almost see his dreams taking shape, the shade of a smile on his...
[ Continued ... ]

...is my biggest fad right now.

It's something I've been experimenting with going on several years now, and you can see at least one of my stories is told from a first-person perspective (another is in the works, and just needs to be finished), and...I love writing in that style so much. The perspective's not always the best way to write, and I still very much enjoy a story written or told in third-person, but when you are in the mood, when you've got something on your mind and it's like a fever right behind your eyes, there's no better way to get it out.

First-person perspectives lets you EMOTE. You get to CHANNEL everything that the character is feeling almost exactly as if it were you in that situation. Pain, humiliation, love, anger, sadness...the primal lusts...
[ Continued ... ]