Serial continuation of the romantic tale of Lisele and Griesel from the Poet of Mu series.
Word Count: 4090
Comfort & Care (Poet of Mu Book 4)
by Gisele Magnin on 2018-04-09
A continuation of the Poet of Mu series. Love story between Lisele and Griesel.
False Hope (Poet of Mu Book 4)
by Gisele Magnin on 2018-03-20
Lisele paced the streets of Cleveland. Tall beautiful buildings echoed of an industrial age she’d only seen in photos. Windows with large arcs, bell towers, Tudor mansions. It was all so wonderful, yet vacant. Where did all the people go?
She scrawled through the streets, raising the side of her leather hood to shelter her eyes from the wind as best possible. It were nearly as windy as Chicago. Most certainly as cold, if not more. For some reason, wind made the world feel colder. Maybe it was because it threatened to sweep her away.
The edges of Spring could been seen overheard. A sort of false hope towards new beginnings. And as direly as she wished for her luck in life to take a sudden shift to her advantage, she also didn’t want to feel things, knowing they would likely never come.
Her memories of Griesel were hers, and hers alone. Who knows? Maybe they weren’t real? Maybe dreams and visions are past lives. Maybe they’re figments of imagination that rip hearts and souls out, simply because some portion of our brains can manage that. Why be cruel to someone else, when we can be cruel to ourselves?
Mortifyingly Morbid Matters (Poet of Mu Book 3)
by Gisele Magnin on 2018-03-19
“Terminate it.” I said, staring at the secretary with a morbid expression. Her brown hair tied in a ponytail. For a moment her thick rimmed glasses slipped down her mousy nose in disbelief. “Terminate my soul contract.”
It was the very secretary I had gone to war with decades ago. The very one who had staple gunned me. Needless to say, we had an aggravatingly specific bond.
A look of disbelief shattered her. A look which didn’t match the perfectly rolled sleeves of her white collar shirt, or the devastatingly attractive slit up the side of her pencil skirt. No, she blinked through her thick-rimmed glasses, as if the very request urged her to slap some sense into me.