For some of us

 

Collages: Old as time / New as morning

 

Coffee has the answer!

 

Multitasking :)

 

Excerpt: T I N S A L - About junipers & March hares

 

“Who is that?” Terra pointed to the right, squinting in the new shadows thrown by the ancient tree beside them.

An old woman, bent over with age or cares, ambled slowly along the far hedgerow, seemingly sniffing at the berries and blossoms there. Terra had the distinct feeling that she sent her gaze at Broadwood more often than was necessary when out walking in the fresh air.

“That would be Ma March,” Folly muttered. “Mad as the March Juniper, probably how she got her name. She lives in a cottage on Ferntree.” He frowned and began to glance repeatedly over his shoulder.

“What is it?” Rhodry asked in a low tone.

“Jonah will do his nut when he sees her.”

“Why?”

“He hates thinking of Ferntree even by indirect reminder, you know that. Its proximity to Broadwood …” Folly gestured beyond the hedgerow. “… often keeps him from visiting here. When he surrendered his assets to the Church, he thought he was doing the right thing, as a priest has no need of earthly wealth, after all, but now he begins to wonder if he erred.’

“He erred,” Rhodry said.

Folly placed hands on hips. “How is that, my friend? Jonah will never further his line. Why keep a manor house, one ageing year by year into disrepair without adequate maintenance? For his old age? The Church will place him in care. More than likely it will be decent care after his very generous gift. How, therefore, did he err?”

“He was too hasty after his father died. He allowed grief to–”

“Grief had nothing to do with it. Jonah’s conscience came into play.”

“But you must admit he was too hasty,” Rhodry insisted.

Folly swung away. “Maybe. Still, what is done is done. And it is also a truth that he hates reminders of his departed legacy … and Ma March is a direct reminder.”

“How?” Terra asked.

“She was his nursemaid for many years.”

Rhodry made a face. “Perhaps she stalks that hedgerow for a reason, one other than smelling the bounty.”

“That’s what worries me,” Folly muttered.

Terra was decisive. “Then you two distract Jonah while I talk to her.”

Without awaiting confirmation, she headed down the steps to walk with purpose across the manicured lawn towards the far boundary. She hoped the two men would heed her, but did not look back to check. She had to seem authoritative to the waiting watcher.

Yes, Ma March had straightened and was waiting.

 

 

“WHO ARE YOU?” the older woman demanded as Terra came to rest on her side of the hedgerow. “I must speak with Jonah.”

Terra eyed her. “I am Terra. You’re not mad at all.”

A blink, then a twinkle appeared in faded blue eyes. “A mad woman is allowed certain liberties. No junipers in my line. My family name is, in fact, March. Suits my purpose to appear mad, it does.”

“Your purpose?”

“I swore to look out for the young master of Ferntree, and I aim to keep that promise until I draw my final breath. His mother entrusted his well-being to me and if there is one woman I have every respect for, it is Ruth Ferntree, bless her departed soul.”

Terra frowned. “Why are you telling me? Why trust me?”

“You are Terra.”

Terra abruptly bent over, hands to knees, sucking in deep breaths. “Someone has said that to me in my dreams since I was a child. You are Terra, she says, many nights. You? How? Why?”

“Dear, calm yourself. There are connections everywhere. In some manner or another we are all of us linked. You heard me, I saw you, and now we meet.”

“How?” Terra whispered, managing to straighten.

“There is magic in the world, dear. This particular society may not feel it as it should be felt, but it exists nonetheless.” Ma March changed direction then, much to Terra’s consternation. “Do you know of Amaris?”

It took Terra a fair few moments to focus. “The witch?”

“Many call her that, yes, and she has power, thus they are not wrong … only misled about what exactly a witch is. Amaris is dead.”

A blunt statement, that, one which served to further confuse. “That’s terrible, but–”

“Zanderin visited with her this morning.”

Terra was silenced.

“Now you wonder how Amaris is connected to the Stone. Not so? She was the love of Kell Sindaland’s life, that’s how.”

Terra puffed out her cheeks, feeling completely lost. “She died because a dead man once loved her?”

“Yes.”

“How terrible.”

“What is terrible is that Rhodry Fairweather has lost the ability to use her wisdom, and that means Jonah loses some of the protection that surrounds Rhodry.”

“What?” She sounded wholly ignorant, but this old woman now spoke in riddles. “You are not making sense.”

A wrinkled hand reached across the hedgerow to grip her wrist. “Dear, just listen. You are Terra. Listen and tell them.” Maintaining a paralysing grip, she glanced over her shoulder. “The holier-than-thou churchmen search for me. Part of the deal for Ferntree is my continued existence, something Jonah insisted upon. Makes them avid little watchdogs, I’m afraid.”

She turned back to capture Terra’s eyes in a fierce, intense gaze, one as paralysing as her hold on her wrist.

“Listen. Many years ago Amaris spoke words of protection for Rhodry Fairweather, but its efficacy is less now that she is passed beyond. It’s there, but less. The danger to all of you young ones is thus greater than it was just an hour ago. Be aware of this and help Jonah where you are able, for I cannot do so myself, other than to speak the warning. And know this also, many will die before this is over. The Tinsal whore cannot be turned from her path. She has a tarot card, one she allocated to herself, for she is part of the net of connections after all. Clever girl. It binds her to see it done.”

“How do you know all this?”

“Because I have the same card, dear. Oh, it wasn’t delivered me by that fool Zanderin; it is a card handed down in my family, woman to woman, until it came to me. One will be left, our story goes, and she will be the one who knows of the other.”

“I don’t understand,” Terra urged.

“The Manipulator, child. We call it Destiny. I am the last of my line. My destiny is to know when another takes up this eccentric card, and Bronwyn has now done that. And not even Zanderin knows. Tell Rhodry. It gifts him insights Zanderin is forced to overlook in his ignorance … oh, here they come, my watchdogs.”

An astonished Terra witnessed an utter transformation. Within moments Ma March was again bent and frail and seemingly as crazy as the juniper with which she was associated. Ma March winked at her and shuffled away. She wandered into the clutches of three robed figures and did not look back.

The priests merely nodded in Terra’s direction. Thank heavens they were an incurious bunch.

Why were junipers considered crazy? It had something to do with dwarf trees and souls within, a children’s tale once, now folklore. Drawing breath after breath, never mind the bloody junipers, she berated herself, Terra strolled back to Broadwood.

Rhodry was outside, waiting.

His seductive smile drew her ever nearer.

Fantasy with a twist; akin to an alternate Assassin’s Creed, where tarot cards are the weapons.

Bronwyn, a woman scorned, loses her honour, status, and her leg, and now the time has come to exact retribution.

Zanderin, a sorcerer bound to her, waves his magic over the attention seeking cards, each with a name attached, and every card becomes a symbol of doom. This is a cosmic deck, dealing in fate. Via his swift carriage, hooded and cloaked, he is the harbinger and assassin.

Terra meets her betrothed, Rhodry, when Zanderin gifts his first card. Rhodry and Zanderin are connected, and everyone linked to them is on Bronwyn’s list of names.

TINSAL is about bloodlines, secrets, and a controlled society. As the cards are dealt, death follows, until the endgame moves to Castle Tinsal itself.

TINSAL

Water connects all things

 

Baby Dragon :)

 

Sun, Moon & Stars

 

Intriguing Vessels

 

585k+!

THANK YOU for visiting!!

xxx

My wish for you

 

Magical evening rituals

 

The Bartender: Greek translation

Just clicked publish on the Greek version!

Excerpt: The Orphan - Rose scented shampoo

 

HE RETURNED AFTER hours of waiting. Her nerves screamed at her to go after him, help him, he may be in trouble, but just as she was about to abandon the dry hollow where she hid, he appeared.

Sunflower hit him in the shoulder. “Don’t do that again,” she snarled.

He merely laughed … and held out a holdall.

Eyes narrowed, she snatched it, opened it. Oh. Fresh clothes. Toiletries, including pads.

“We can wash in the pond we saw a way back.” Adin watched her rummage, clearly enjoying her reactions. “But first …”

She accepted the brown bag he shook with wiggling eyebrows. Food. Proper stuff-it-in food. Sunflower sat flat on the stony ground, and stuffed her face. Although cold, it was delicious. Fries, deep fried fish, pork sausages, savoury tarts, and a yummy chilli dip.

“How?” she asked around filled cheeks.

“Raided the clothes recycle bin to look presentable enough, washed up in a toilet in back of the local gas station, and then went shopping. Got some funny looks for the girl stuff, but so what?” He peered at her. “Charged my phone at the diner.”

Sunflower stared at him. “You went online?”

“That’s what took so long, yes.”

“And?”

“Your father put out a fresh appeal for you on your birthday, but I didn’t find anything else about you.”

Sucking the last of the sauce from her fingers, she prompted, “Fred?” She still called him Fred, easier to deal with him, as if he were no more than a character in a play.

“Dug some into Paul Paterson’s life. Seems he vanished around the time you did, so it’s definitely him. Folks have the kind of money to put him in that fancy school, but he was the fifth son, won’t inherit much. The bulk of the estate goes to the oldest.”

“Explains why he took me for ransom.”

“His folks have a reward out. They’re looking, as your folks are looking.”

“But he can’t go home, not until I’m dead.”

Adin nodded.

Sunflower rose to gather the remains of her meal. “Let’s get to that pond.” As they walked on after shouldering their gear old and new, she asked, “What are you not telling me?”

“He broke out from an institution. Committed for some mental disorder. His parents want him found because they say he is a danger to society.”

Closing her eyes briefly, she walked on. It explained his odd behaviour. How he taunted her. How he watched her. Yet, to be truthful, he did not actually hurt her. In some ways he, in fact, cared for her. Monthly feminine products. New clothes. Books, including the cookery kind. Sleeping tablets. Cough mixture when she had a chest issue.

It didn’t make sense.

She said as much.

“There’s such a thing as mental torture,” Adin murmured.

And wasn’t that the truth?

They reached the pond, and as the first rays of sunshine peered over the towering mountains, Sunflower forewent everything else to become as clean as she could be, revelling in the rose scented shampoo Adin had bought for her.

Ever would the smell of roses bring him to mind.

An orphaned boy searches for a lost girl.

A woman abandons her new-born at a motel in the back of beyond. Adin grows up unloved, bullied, and no one remembers him. He doesn’t exist.

Until he sees a poster for a missing girl on a lamppost. There is an instant connection to little Sunflower, kidnapped for ransom, only to disappear after the money is paid. He exists because he must find her. Alone, he searches, a journey that takes him into the wild places, meeting along the way some interesting characters.

In dreams he speaks to her, for she is the one who will remember him.

THE ORPHAN

Caturday: Better late than never!

Bit late with the Caturday post :)

 

Sounds like a plan :)

 

Life to everything

 

Drama Dots!

 

Act accordingly!

 

Those amazing lights!

Seems whether I was at the southern tip of Africa (my birth place) on May 10, or in Kildare, Ireland (my home county now), those amazing lights in the skies put on a show for both 😍

South Africa:

Ireland

Yes, don't us writers think this?!

 

Ancient Illumination: Temple Dancer (excerpt)

 

Dark eyes roll back and Halley’s hands commence a peculiar pattern of movement, as if they too are dancing. This isn’t pole twisting, I sense; this is more like temple worship.

Winter murmurs, softly, “Please listen to her. This is the Movement of Memory.”

It is not as if we have the power of speech anyway, for we are all of us mesmerised by Halley’s flowing hands and sinuous body. She is indeed a dancer.

Halley begins to speak in a hypnotic tone. “The Giants laid down the great stones and carved upon them words of power. The Masons settled rock upon rock upon these foundations, revelling in the perfection. The Magicians created arches for ingress and spheres for light in the sheer edifice, and were satisfied. The Mistress waved her wand and, lo, a star appeared in the marvellous ceiling. The Artists played with gold and gems and covered the very walls and floors with otherworldly ostentation. Many came to gawk, it was that beautiful. The Master was displeased and sealed mighty Castle Drakon for all time, to all outsiders.”

The hairs on the back of my neck stand stiffly to attention. Somewhere, perhaps in a dream, I have heard this before. I know this legend.

Fire spews and ice follows. The world Drakonis is near death and all life has fled. Except for Brennan, the thief who hears mysterious directions to Castle Drakon on the wind, and brothers Bastian and Cole, who choose to follow her. Then there’s Halley, an exotic dancer from the burning cities, and Audri, who refuses to speak.

 These five are the last and it is their task to ensure at least memory remains, or Drakonis will be eternally forgotten. To ensure this, they must find Castle Drakon.

 In a grotto under the ice they discover three others alive and before the warmth of a fire hear of a mighty legend. Unravelling its mysteries could lead to a way off a dying world. An ancient light will illuminate their path.

ANCIENT ILLUMINATION

Caturday: God/Goddess

 

Collages: Flower Power

 

Books and Pajamas

 

I'm in!

 

Also me!

 

R.I.P Bernard Hill

 

LOTR trivia

 

Book of Being so far

 

My A - Z book of short stories. So far : Artist / Bartender / Caregiver / Follower / Jeweller / Orphan / Potter / Student. All links and info under Short Stories and Novellas overhead 😍