Prompt: A poet pixie has to use her writing to save the world, but she only speaks in haiku.

It was the darkest place she’d ever been, and it wasn’t until that point that she truly understood what darkness was. Before, up in the forests, it was just like the weather, coming and going and never taking up all the air. There was always something to break it up: fireflies, the moon, the stars, the distant glow of human villages… Continue reading →