A circle cast.

She sat in the circle. Alone and vulnerable, with only a line of salt to protect her. Her only light a single candle. They looked at her from the outside. They couldn’t reach her without breaching the circle.

They knew what she was getting herself into, but they could not warn her. They knew nothing would be the same once again. They hope it would not burn her soul too much.

Placed in front of the woman was a goblet. Dark liquid filled its bowl. They watched her mutter some strange incantation and lift the vessel to her mouth. She drank it down. Her eyes opened and her Universe shattered into sharp pieces.

Ó Michelle Ward Feb 2011

Here be Dragons...

Do you believe in Dragons?

Dragons are real. But they don’t give a rat’s arse whether we believe in them or not. They don’t suddenly disappear if someone says, “I don’t believe in Dragons”, and we don’t have to clap to save their lives. You might be walking down the road, and walk past one without truly seeing them. I did that once. It was probably a mistake on their part, since when I looked again; it was just another plane flying through the sky. But I know it really was a Dragon.

They aren’t massively impressed with the Human race. We are, as they say, Crunchy and Taste Good With Ketchup. However, sometimes we can strike up conversations with them, and if we don’t irritate them too much, develop reasonably good relationships. I mean, you don’t want to push it too far. They don’t take too kindly to our silly sense of self-importance, and that frazzled hair looks doesn’t look good on anyone and smells bad to boot.

Traditionally they are meant to have large hoards of treasure, but to be honest, the ones I know tend to have, umm, collections of Tat. They like their shiny bits and pieces, and they probably do have some priceless artefacts in there, but you have to get through the piles of strange object d’arts first. (And don’t even ask about the MacDonald’s Happy Meal toy collections!)

Dragons are getting really old these days. Think really eccentric University Professor that might eat you if you piss them off. You have to stay on your toes to even be interesting enough to have a conversation with them. As to why you would want to have a conversation with them, they do have an extraordinary sharp insight on the universe as we know it, or more importantly as we don’t.

So if you ever have the pleasure of meeting a Dragon, then remember to treat them with respect. Bring something for them to add to their Hoard of Treasure (Obviously Disney Happy Meal toys work well. Or something from Regretsy, that will always crack them up!) Tread carefully and speak thoughtfully and you might find you have the time of your life.

Empty Head by Owen (age 10yrs and 4 months)

Empty Head

An idea came
Flew into my head
So huge
So terrifying
An idea came
Its emerald green eyes paralysing its prey
Its thrashing wings creating whirlwinds in the sky
Its roar echoes through the planet
Its burning scarlet scales
Contrast with its golden glistening horns
A silver tipped tail slashes the air
Poisonous bloodstained fangs sink into the earth
Static claws illuminate the clouds
An idea came
I wanted it to stay
Its fiery breath burns me
Its icy spit freezes me
It flew away to oblivion
It was gone.

Whoops.

Umm, yeah. No excuse really for ignoring the blog, just haven't really thought about it much to update here.

Not sure where I want to take this blog. Personal updates of "I took the kids to school, did housework, blah blah blah" don't make for a particularly interesting read (or that great for me to write either.)

However I don't want to stop writing about stuff that I feel passionately about, angry about or just generally WTF about. Do I use prompts to help me get the creative juices following? Do I pimp myself out on other blogs I read to try and get more inspiration there? (If you are following me, then ideas of what to write about would be greatly appreciated.)

It isn't like I don't have enough time to get on here, but that may be part of the problem. Too much free time. Often it is when I am busy that I think of wicked things to write about, but by the time I sit down to write about it, I forget what I thought of.

So, do I write about politics? Our fucked up society? The state of the planet? Sex? Religion? Steps reforming?

Universe! Send me some ideas!!

Old post.

Thought I would bring an old post to the surface.

Here it is,

Jump!

Secret.

I have a guilty little secret,
One I cannot share.
A dirty little secret
That only I can bear.

My secret makes me naughty,
A giggle and a look.
I was caught in an instant,
Sinker, line and hook.

What is my little secret?
Well, that I cannot tell.
One mistaken whispered word,
And I am off to hell!

:P

The Black Imp.

At least Don Quixote had his windmills.
You mindlessly tilt at nothing.
Your words and actions don’t match up
And your pain and misery spreads like the plague.
Angrily shouting about Honour and Truth
Yet your Honour has gone
And your Truth has slipped you by.

Man of substance
Your portrayal is flawed.
The Black Imp of Deceit sits at your feet
A constant companion.
You don’t even notice him.
Your Gods are watching even if you don’t care.
They notice as you break your vows.

Payback is a Bitch.
SHE is merciless and unyielding.
SHE has no care for your feelings or motives,
SHE sees only cold naked fear and truth.
SHE will hold you up
Weigh your soul.
And find you lacking.

They Watch.

She sat in the circle. Alone and vulnerable, with only a line of salt to protect her. Her only light a single candle. They looked at her from the outside. They couldn’t reach her without breaching the circle.
They knew what she was getting herself into, but they could not warn her. They knew nothing would be the same once again. They hoped it would not burn her soul too much.
Placed in front of the woman was a goblet. Dark liquid filled its bowl. They watched her mutter some strange incantation and lift the vessel to her mouth. She drank it down. Her eyes opened and her Universe shattered into sharp pieces.

It's A Trap.

Magaly from Pagan Culture is trying out a new challenge, getting her readers to write pagan styley fiction in less that 113 words. This blatantly isn't 113 words, but I thought I would share it anyway. (It isn't that Pagan either, more Urban Fantasy!) :P

It’s A Trap!

The bar isn't too busy. Enough people to make a pleasant evening, but not too many that you feel cramped and in danger of having one’s drink spilt. I walk to the bar, and smile at my favourite bartender.

I sit on a barstool, and he pours me a large glass of red wine. He knows me well so I know that I will not be harassed by unwanted attention whilst I sit there. I am wearing the classic little black dress, ala Audrey Hepburn, stockings and killer high heels. I have made some heads turn as I walked through the bar. That is how it should be, but other than that, it really doesn’t interest me.

I look at around the place, its décor is very modern, lots of mirrors and crystal, which makes for a charmingly glittery effect. There are tables lining most of the walls, with dividers providing some semblance of privacy. Plush black velvet and leather seats are filled with young beautiful people vying with each other for attention and adoration. In the corner of the bar, there is an old school Wurlitzer jukebox. At the moment it is playing The Eagles, Hotel California. Oddly fitting for this particular time and place.

I continue to sit at the bar. Occasionally I turn to watch who is entering through the doors. I am not looking for anyone in particular, but I will know him when he walks in. I have to sweetly discourage many men and a few women, who approach me for my attention. Sometimes not so sweetly, but my barman will come to my rescue if he thinks I need it. I don’t need it. But still…

Ah, there he is. He has just walked in with a group of whom I assume are his friends. They glance my way. Then look for a little longer, the men with undisguised interest, the women with undisguised envy. He smiles shyly at me, using his boyish good looks to his advantage. It works, he is adorable, so I repay him with a slight raising of my glass and small smile.

The jukebox has now started playing Soft Cell’s Tainted Love. This makes me smile more.

This new group of young people surround the pool table in the far end of the bar. It is opposite to me, so I can watch them without distraction. They know I am watching them, I see the dirty looks from the young women and the sniggers from the young men. After half an hour of watching them attempt to play pool, with the ubiquitous immature flirting from the young women, I see my boyish one pull out his wallet to head toward the bar. To me. One of the young women, the blonde one who seems to think that he is interested in her follows like a little puppy. It saddens me slightly to see a woman to act like this, but she will learn as we all do at some point.

I slowly drain the last of my wine, as he arrives at the bar. He pushes through, and manages to secure a place about arms length away from me. His puppy tries to get as close to him as she possibly can. She glares at me over his arms as he orders his and his friends’ drinks. The barman clears away my empty wineglass, and as the young man notices, he turns to me and offers to buy me another. Of course I accept graciously, and when he asks if I would like to join him and his friends, well, it would be rude not to say yes…

I carry my glass over to the pool table, the barman looks at me with a question in his eyes, but it does not reach his mouth. As I walk, the jukebox starts to play Kylie and Nick Cave’s Where The Wild Roses Grow.

The boys of the group start to snigger as I join them. It becomes very apparent that whatever age they are, they are still just boys. I watch them play pool for a while. The brunette girl attempts to engage me in conversation, and she is a lovely young thing, so I play nicely and answer her questions. The blonde one just sits as far away from me without leaving the group flinging her sulky dirty looks at me at any given moment.

One of the young men approaches me laughing and asks me if I would like to play a game of pool. I smile and ask him, what if I am a hustler? I could take you for everything you have? He goes to walk away, thinking I won’t take him up on his offer. However, I follow him to the table and take the cue from his hands.

After beating him by making it look like a fluke, they push their star player to the table. This would be James, my boy full of innocent charm. He blushes as he comes towards me. I promise him I will be gentle with him. For now. And then I wipe the table with him barely getting a shot in.

At this the ice is well and truly broken, and I spend the rest of the evening in their pleasant, but exuberant company.

As the night goes on, the ambience of the bar changes. The lights go down, and the place becomes more intimate and perhaps a little more dangerous. The clientele becomes edgier and hard, but my little group of children are too busy playing to notice. The brunette girl goes home with one of the lads who I presume is her boyfriend, and I see that the little sulky blonde one has given up on my boy and is trying her luck at the bar with my favourite bartender.

This leaves me with my boy. The remainder of his friends see that he is otherwise occupied and go home. The boy and I talk about anything and everything. His delightful chatter rains down on my ears and I smile at him as he talks.

I look at my watch as my instincts tell me that it is approaching closing time. I look at the bar, and can no longer see the blonde girl. I presume that she has left.

The boy asks me if I wish to continue the night with him. I tell him that I had already made my decision about that when he walked into the bar. He picks up my coat and helps me into it, surprising me a little with such gentlemanly manners. He finishes his drink, takes me hand and leads me out of the doorway.

The bar is set back somewhat from the main road, and the approach leading to it is insufficiently lit for safety. My young man uses this to his advantage to pull me close to him as we walk along the pavement.

There is a small alleyway to the side. He pulls me in, and looks down at me, smiling with that well known look in his eye. I raise my head to his, and feel his exploring lips and then tongue touch my mouth. I place my arms around his neck and pull him closer to me, feeling his body next to mine. He hungrily kisses down my jaw line, and to my neck. I respond in kind and run my fingers through his hair.

I reach his neck, and start to kiss it as fervently as he has just kissed mine. I hear his moan of pleasure as I nip him gently with my teeth. He doesn’t notice when the nips become sharper and deeper, and I hear his breath shudder as I start to take his blood. I hear music playing from the jukebox. It is the last song of the night. The lyrics of Queen’s Who Wants To Live Forever has always haunted me…

Song lyrics that accompany this story.

Hotel California" by The Eagles Ó The Eagles

On a dark desert highway, cool wind in my hair
Warm smell of colitas, rising up through the air
Up ahead in the distance, I saw shimmering light
My head grew heavy and my sight grew dim
I had to stop for the night
There she stood in the doorway;
I heard the mission bell
And I was thinking to myself,
'This could be Heaven or this could be Hell'
Then she lit up a candle and she showed me the way
There were voices down the corridor,
I thought I heard them say...

Welcome to the Hotel California
Such a lovely place (Such a lovely place)
Such a lovely face
Plenty of room at the Hotel California
Any time of year (Any time of year)
You can find it here

Her mind is Tiffany-twisted, she got the Mercedes bends
She got a lot of pretty, pretty boys she calls friends
How they dance in the courtyard, sweet summer sweat.
Some dance to remember, some dance to forget

So I called up the Captain,
'Please bring me my wine'
He said, 'We haven't had that spirit here since nineteen sixty nine'
And still those voices are calling from far away,
Wake you up in the middle of the night
Just to hear them say...

Welcome to the Hotel California
Such a lovely place (Such a lovely place)
Such a lovely face
They livin' it up at the Hotel California
What a nice surprise (what a nice surprise)
Bring your alibis

Mirrors on the ceiling,
The pink champagne on ice
And she said 'We are all just prisoners here, of our own device'
And in the master's chambers,
They gathered for the feast
They stab it with their steely knives,
But they just can't kill the beast

Last thing I remember, I was
Running for the door
I had to find the passage back
To the place I was before
'Relax,' said the night man,
'We are programmed to receive.
You can check-out any time you like,
But you can never leave!'

Soft Cell – Tainted Love Ó Marc Almond

Sometimes I feel I've got to

Run away I've got to

Get away
From the pain that you drive into the heart of me
The love we share
Seems to go nowhere
And I've lost my light
For I toss and turn I can't sleep at night

(chorus)
Once I ran to you (I ran)
Now I'll run from you
This tainted love you've given
I give you all a boy could give you
Take my tears and that's not nearly all
Oh...tainted love
Tainted love

Now I know I've got to
Run away I've got to
Get away
You don't really want IT any more from me
To make things right
You need someone to hold you tight
And you’ll think love is to pray
But I'm sorry I don't pray that way

(chorus...)

Don't touch me please
I cannot stand the way you tease
I love you though you hurt me so
Now I'm going to pack my things and go
Tainted love, tainted love (x2)
Touch me baby, tainted love (x2)
Tainted love (x3)

Nick Cave and Kylie Minogue – Where The Wild Roses Grow Ó Nick Cave & Kylie

CHORUS:

They call me The Wild Rose
But my name was Elisa Day
Why they call me it I do not know
For my name was Elisa Day

From the first day I saw her I knew she was the one
As she stared in my eyes and smiled
For her lips were the colour of the roses
They grew down the river, all bloody and wild

When he knocked on my door and entered the room
My trembling subsided in his sure embrace
He would be my first man, and with a careful hand
He wiped the tears that ran down my face

CHORUS

On the second day I brought her a flower
She was more beautiful than any woman I'd seen
I said, 'Do you know where the wild roses grow
So sweet and scarlet and free?'

On the second day he came with a single rose
Said: 'Will you give me your loss and your sorrow?'
I nodded my head, as I laid on the bed
He said, 'If I show you the roses will you follow?'

CHORUS

On the third day he took me to the river
He showed me the roses and we kissed
And the last thing I heard was a muttered word
As he stood smiling above me with a rock in his fist

On the last day I took her where the wild roses grow
And she lay on the bank, the wind light as a thief
As I kissed her goodbye, I said, 'All beauty must die'
And lent down and planted a rose between her teeth

CHORUS

Queen – Who Wants To Live Forever

Words and music by Brian May

There's no time for us
There's no place for us
What is this thing that builds our dreams yet slips away
From us

Who wants to live forever
Who wants to live forever....?

There's no chance for us
Its all decided for us
This world has only one sweet moment set aside for us

Who wants to live forever
Who wants to live forever?

Who dares to love forever?
When love must die

But touch my tears with your lips
Touch my world with your fingertips
And we can have forever
And we can love forever
Forever is our today
Who wants to live forever
Who wants to live forever?
Forever is our today

Who waits forever anyway?

Oh Muse, where art thou?

I want to be an Artist.
I want to be Artistic.
It just isn't happening.

When I was at school, I loved art. (I still love art.) My art teacher was lovely and encouraging and all those good things that teachers should be. However when I reached GCSE age, I had a new teacher. He was not lovely and encouraging. He had his set favourites in his class, and I blatantly wasn't one of them. He absolutely sucked the joy out of me.

It has taken me literally years to recover. However, my problem is that the years of inactivity have taken its toll and I am quite frankly crap now. I tried drawing when I went away for the wedding a few weeks back, and actually got a bit upset about how rubbish I am now.

Now I know that I do have a bit of talent, buried somewhere. I can look back at my artwork from my school days, and see the talent there. But how do I get it back again?

(I know the answer, I just need to work through it and JUST DO IT!)

Jump! By Me (so be nice!)

“Just hold my hand and jump” the boy with the bright blue eyes said to me. “Trust me, I won’t let you go.” We run together, heading towards the cliff top. Our bare feet crush the salty grass that grows along the edge. My heart is beating in my mouth; I look at him, this fire-red haired boy, grinning as we head towards the sea.
The edge of the cliff gets closer and closer. Panic starts to rise in my stomach; I slow down involuntarily. My companion looks at me, pulling harder. His brilliant white smile doesn’t calm me down, but I realise the inevitability of our actions. I know I am going to follow him. That I will jump. I always jump. Suddenly, we are at the edge, there is nowhere to stop, nowhere to turn around, the only place to go is forwards, always forwards. Together we jump. All around us is silent, I can hear nothing but the pounding of my heart as transformed we fly for those seconds before nature takes its course and we plummet forever downwards.
The Sylphs dance around our bodies as we free-fall to the sea. Will the Undines be so welcoming when we meet them? We hit the water. Holding our breath as the salty brine covers our heads. We are still holding hands as we plunge further down. Disorientated, all that I am I have forgotten. All I know is this moment, this one instant of time and space. I open my eyes; all around me are bubbles of air in the green/blue expanse. I see him swimming next to me, still smiling. He seems so at ease in the water, like a true natural spirit. He looks up to the brighter water above us and we swim to the surface.
Breaking through, I breathe again noisily. I cannot describe the exhilaration that fills my body. I scream his name, he laughs at me and kisses me.
“When can we do this again?” I ask.