Beauty, BnV, BooknVolume, creative writing, Dark Fey, Fairy, Fairy Realm, Fantasy, Fantasy Realm, Feykind, life, Mythical, Mythical Creatures, Mythical Places, Nature, relationships, The Reviled, ~Morgan~
Chapter Six of “Dark Fey, The Reviled” is actually the first chapter I wrote in the stpry and, should you choose to read today’s Friday Fantasy, you may discover why it is also my favourite of the book. Not, I dare say, because I wrote it…no no no..but because ….well, do read on and discover for yourself. And do be assured, although it is chapter six, no spoiler alert is needed.
The forests of Jyndari were vast and Hwyndarin was set nearly in the heart of the ancient woodland: with good reason. On the coast, storms and high winds could sweep in from the oceans or roll off the heights of the Trynnari Mountains and threaten both the stability of essential Light and the equally indispensable treasures of learning collected through the ages, but deep in the center of the primordial forest storms were seldom a threat or even a consideration. Hwyndarin had been chosen millennia ago as the seat of all learning and artistry for this especial reason, for here the precious tomes from thousands of years of wisdom could be housed safely and here the artisan’s treasures could be protected. Yet infrequently, a significantly powerful tempest would press back the borders of the forest and shatter the tranquility of that peaceful village.
The late November day had been extraordinarily fair, but the night brought with it gales and pouring icy rain of unparalleled fury that tore at the canopy above Hwyndarin like a giant running its hand over a field of wheat. Boughs and branches crashed down on the village rooftops, rain pelted down like daggers in blinding torrents, and blazing bolts of jagged lightening with resounding clangors of thunder tore the sky repeatedly asunder.
Ayla was guarding the infant of a family called away in grief over the loss of a loved one and had been enjoying a peaceful evening in the quiet solitude of her home with the child. Now, as a bellow of thunder shook her small cottage and the hammering of rain pounded over their heads she held the child close in her arms. She hushed his wailing with a soft, melodic tune, but a furious gust of air blasted open the shuttered windows and shredded her voice. Instantly, her glowing home was pitched into darkness as the gale extinguished every lantern and the child’s shriek of fear mimicked her own.
Her thoughts spun in a panic. A mirror stood in darkness in her boudoir, the child’s cribroom lay in shadows, and the corridor along which she had to travel to reach either held no window, only darkness that could conceal The Reviled, yet, she knew she had to light at least a single candle and she had to brighten the mirror immediately. Each second it stood in blackness was an opportunity for crossing. Racing to the nearest cabinet, she fumbled with the beeswax taper she found there and whispered one of many, simple spells she used frequently in her daily life.
“Luxay,” she said in a commanding tone and the wick popped into flame. The room flickered between shadow and light, yet, it was only a single candle. Should she light more or should she race to the mirror? A mirror left in darkness cries out to be crossed. The recitation she had repeated for years in her youth now played over and over in her mind, but she could not risk entering a room with a darkened mirror while holding a baby in her arms, ripe for the taking. She was a Guardian; her first duty was to protect the innocent.
Clutching her candle, she drew a deep breath, kissed the tot’s head reassuringly and darted along the hall toward his cribroom. A small lantern stood upon his night table, she only need reach it and light it in order to keep him safe. She stopped at the darkened doorway and peered inside, her sight piercing the ebon shades and her own glimmering aura lending illumination. Stepping into the dark interior, she reached immediately for the lantern, yet even as she touched its cool, brass sheath a shadow contracted in the far corner of the room and she froze in instinctive terror.
The shadow grew darker, denser, then spread outward into the dimness of the room not brightened by Ayla’s small candle. Roshwyn in her arms squealed and began to cry louder and she cradled him more tightly, protecting him with her diaphanous wings as her mind spun in alarm.
Light the lantern! Speak the words of protection! Flee!
……..(here ends part one. Part two will follow in my next post)
Beautiful Original Artwork by: Elena Dudina and by Ucchiey
Currents, Rhymes and Reason
Sweet Heavenly Wind A-Blowin’
Guiding me Along
Beautiful Photograph by Caters found at: http://www.express.co.uk
A Thousand Souls, Angels, Beauty, BnV, BooknVolume, creative writing, Faith, God, Heaven, One Truth, Perfection, Poem, poetry, Purpose of Life, spirituality, The One Answer, Unconditional Love, ~Morgan~
Darkness reflects my Seeking Gaze
as I Stare Out Beyond this Staging,
And See the Shimmering, Dancing Lights
Of A Thousand Souls Parading.
Apathy Enfolds me as I Sleep,
The dark and friendless hours of Night,
Beyond the Touch of a single Human Hand
to Comfort me in my Plight.
Ennui Steals my Impetus,
Careworn and Desensitized I stare,
In the Echo of Insidious Thought,
Where All Purpose seems Stripped Bare.
Yet, Beyond where man has ever stood,
One Answer Exceeds the strife,
An Answer Accepted Keenly by my Heart,
Transforming the Tedium of Life.
Imposing no Proviso,
No Alteration Justified,
Just as Perfection formed Me
Loving All that was and is inside.
Beautiful artwork found on google
A Great Way to Share your works with a Broader audience.
Originally posted on WordPress.com News:
Gabrielle Bell, a cartoonist based in Brooklyn, New York, has published a new book, Truth Is Fragmentary: Travelogues & Diaries. Raw, revealing, and sometimes surreal, this comic diary serves up what Gabrielle is known for — her humor and introspection — as she muses on daily life and chronicles her travels around the world, from France to Sweden to Colombia.
Gabrielle is a WordPress.com blogger to watch: in the past, her work has been selected for numerous notable anthologies (such as the Best American Comics series) and her last book, The Voyeurs, was named a best graphic memoir of 2012.
* * *
Marilyn R. Gardner, the blogger at Communicating Across Boundaries, also has a new book released this month:…
View original 143 more words
Abstinence, All Work and No Play, BnV, BooknVolume, Bordeline Diabetes, creative writing, Dance, DJ, Good Lord, Insomnia, John Travolta, Joy, Laughter, life, Little Black Dress, Physical stimulation, relationships, Riding Bike, ~Morgan~
I used to go dancing a lot, nearly every weekend. Same place, certainly nothing fancy, but there was a proper DJ, a few good friends, and a fancy to flirt with. Oh it was fun! Yet, now, I don’t go as much. In truth, it’s been years, even though I love to dance, love to hear the driving beat matching my pounding pulse, love to shake what the Good Lord gave me. Yes, I know how. I don’t get out there on the floor only after I’ve had one too many making every step a misstep, every turn a potential disaster, and I certainly don’t do that “White Girl” dance that looks more like there’s a queue for the loo than an expression of rhythmic ecstasy going on.
So why is it, then, that I have abstained for so long? The place is still there, the friends are still about, even the DJ is still in attendance on his given night, but, for whatever reason, I stopped going. Too many late nights? No. That’s the beauty of Saturdays. Not enough “fundage” to foot the bill? Never. Dancing is free; it’s the drinking that is costly. Got bored with the same ol’ scene…ok maybe, but I never went to parade my assets to the flesh market; I only ever went to dance, have a good time and a lot of laughs.
Why, then, deny myself something I enjoy; something that made me giggle, something from which I have dozens of great memories, something that made me feel so good? Job responsibilities got in the way, boyfriend at the time had something to say, supposed spiritual antithesis made me feel I rather ought to pray, not sure which, but something wouldn’t let me play (sorry, it’s the poet in me!) Whatever it was, I simply stopped going.
This happens, though, doesn’t it. Whether it’s the club where we love to dance, or the gym where we work out (and prance? Sorry!) Whether it’s the afternoon game at school we always used to go to, or the local theatre meeting we just can’t find time for anymore, or the church service of a Sunday that we used to attend; there always seems to be something that we sacrifice in order to satisfy the demands and pressures of our lives. It’s the extra job so we can buy a new car, or the late hours at the office so we can pay our inflated mortgage; it’s the dinner party that keeps us from spending time with our children, or the sheer exhaustion of it all that keeps us from getting up off the couch to give our bodies a little physical stimulation (behave now, I mean working out here!)
In the end, though, what are we gaining? Stress? Hassles? Dissatisfaction? 30 extra pounds and borderline diabetes? Estranged loved ones? Lonely children? Insomnia? A Life without Purpose? The list can go on and on. You know what they say: All work and no play….All Stress and no Pray….
My Point? (yes, you and I both know I don’t really need one, but once again you are in luck) What I’m saying is simply this: Grab your i-whatever devise and go for a walk. Strap on a helmet and take a spin on that bicycle that’s been sitting (or hanging) in your garage for years. Pick up a ball or a doll and play with your baby before they grow up and don’t want you around. Or better yet, put on your little black dress (unless you’re a man, of course! In that case put on something sleek and sexy that shows off your best attribute), call up some friends and Go Shake Your Grove Thang!
Because the fun you have and the inspiration you achieve will last a vast while longer than any false sense of accomplishment you may gain by working late or ignoring your mate.
Purge my Perplexity,
Without the Chaos of Rushing Sight,
Sigh Gently Within Me
And Grace my Path with Glimmering Light,
That All May See Your Smile,
All Around May Know Your Heart,
If Only from my shades of Musing,
Should they, Through Grace, Stand Sweetly Apart.
Yet, if Life’s Tempests force me Mute,
Speak through the Silence, Softly Astute.
Beautiful Photograph found at: gfab.com
Beloved, BnV, BooknVolume, creative writing, eternity, Harmony, Longing, Love, Nature, photography, Pleasure, Poem, poetry, relationships, rhyme, Romance, Soul Mates, Time and Space, Treasure, Twin Flames, ~Morgan~
My Love for You Shall cross Time and Space,
Within my Heart, Shaped Solely for You,
Beloved, Most Cherished, My Love Ever True.
Speak Softly in the Sweet Hush of Night,
Delight of my Heart, Intoxicating Pleasure,
Beloved Twin Flame, My Heart’s True Treasure.
Beautiful Photograph found on universe-beauty.com
Beauty, BnV, BooknVolume, Calm, creative writing, Dreams, emotions, Faith, Heart, Hope, Indigo, Inspiration, life, Mystery, Nature, Paradox, Peace, photography, Poem, poetry, Quiet, Silence, spirituality, Tranquil Blue, Tranquility, Truth, Whisper, Whispers, ~Morgan~
The Whispers of the Breeze
Speaks Silence to my Heart,
In Shades of Indigo Brilliance
And Bright Luminous Mists of Tranquil Blue,
Speaking of Your Mystery,
Uttering Paradoxes, Timeless and True.
Unfettered upon this Whisper of Air,
Unchained from Grief, from Doubt, from Despair,
Into the Realms of Pearlescent Dreams,
Glittering Incomprehensibility Streams.
Beautiful Photograph found at HDQwide.com
Time is Waiting,
While Daylight pauses on the Terrestrial windowsill.
Night is Lurking,
While I lie here fighting perpetual doubt and fear.
The Moon is rising,
Kissed by Light,
As I Pray to the Heavens to make Everything Right.
The Stars will track Erebus, and then fade,
As another Day breaks into Night’s Shade,
And I will Wait,
With Breath bated,
For the Love that is Coming, Promised and Fated;
For even as Day
Turns ever to Night,
Faith Brings Heavens Blessings and Guided Sight.
Beautiful Image found at Dreamstime.com