LitFest Stories from Egregore

Egregore, photographed by Wildstar Beaumont
Egregore, photographed by Wildstar Beaumont

“The Giant of Egregore”
by Talia Sunsong

I am a god,
Declared the giant
We are playthings of the gods
The toys cried
The toys escaped
Hiding under the land
In anger
The giant smashed his piano
The keys scattered
As they ran
The toy’s feet
Play a revealing tune
The giant will find them
Yet there is still hope

The angel plays her lyre
Come dance with us
Call the unicorns
They churned the leaves
Over the scroll
The secret
Penned by the giant
He commanded the unicorns
Destroy it

The unicorns sing
We dance and churn the leaves
The secret lies beneath
Come find it toys
Read the magic spell
Escape the giant

So the toys raced
to look beneath
the unicorn’s hooves
to piece together
the spell
The words waved
beneath the Unicorns

The giant stomped closer
The toys read faster
The giant reached
The spell recited
A portal opened
The toys jumped

Made it through
The door closed
Giant blocked
Now the Toys
Live Free


Egregore, photographed by Wildstar Beaumont
Egregore, photographed by Wildstar Beaumont


Sarah’s Gone
( A Memory Poem Triggered by Egregore)
by Zander Green

You break open my house.

You split the walls, strange light pours in, I cannot see your face.

But I know it is you.

Summer, red wine and that song you loved, the cat whose name I can’t remember, vanilla and traffic by the park –

All come pouring in –

Strange light –

So I know it is you.

You see,

Alex said, “Sarah’s gone.” But that isn’t what happened first.

First was opening your door and knowing before seeing what you had done.
Then came the smell. And I knew it was you. I knew you would be lying there.
Your legs at odd angles. Did you make the cuts while standing up? Did you fall?

I am eighteen and I love you and you have spilled your life on the floor of this room.
I am eighteen and you are the sun and perfect as nothing has ever been.

And I am eighteen.

Time beyond measure passes (days?) and you lie in the earth and Alex says,

“Sarah’s gone.”

A moment passes.

And I am fifty.
Still scrubbing at the stain.

I am fifty and you crawl from the Earth –
Break open my house.
Strange light pours in
And I know it is you.

I am fifty and
I build worlds now
Where you might have been happy
And been my sun
And perfect
As everything is.

Egregore, photographed by Wildstar Beaumont
Egregore, photographed by Wildstar Beaumont


“To Write, Perchance to Play”
by FidgetsWidget
All photographs in this section by the author

The first thing Fidget did on arriving in Egregore was to land smack-dab with her nose on a white key.

And it made a noise.

Never give a Dinkie keyboard keys that make noise to run up and down on.

Or that is what you will hear for the next 10 minutes.

Then, of course, there was the apple.

Fidget had to play with that 20 times before she was done with it.

Eat, Get Poisoned, Die!

Well, then Fidget had to play the Harp, wouldn’t you?

And the Unicorn ride.

Some days when you adventure, it’s all about playing.

The writing for today is:

“Go Play!”

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