OctPoWriMo 27 - All is Magic

The rain that falls upon the thirsty ground;

The wind that dances with the grass and trees;

The sun and moon and stars that twinkle ‘round;

The reverence that brings me to my knees;

The ferns of frost painted upon the leaves;

The peace and stillness in the dead of night;

The words upon the page that set me free;

The power that was birthed in me to write;

That I am me ne’er ceases to astound;

It all is magic, mighty and profound.

 

OctPoWriMo 23 - I Still Believe in Magic

I dreamed of magic as a child;

I wanted wizards to be real;

I wished that I could do a spell,

And that the world was free and wild.

As I grew

I learned that facts

Aren’t always truth,

But I still believe

In freedom

And magic.

And though the colours oft go dull,

And life is sometimes but a trial,

Still I will always be beguiled,

And magic will always appeal.

Behind the clouds,

The rainbow waits,

The sun is always there:

A silver lining,

A pot of gold,

And magic.

Je crois toujours à la magie

et j'en croirai à tout jamais.

OctPoWriMo 17 - Wondrous Things

Today's prompt is fantasy "And the Dragon Chose..." I wrote an alouette today as I've never tried this form before and it sounded fun.


Wondrous Things

Elves and pixies tease;
Magic’s on the breeze;
Wizards, witches, warlocks chant,
Weaving wondrous things
As, upon soft wings,
Fairies swoop and sing and dance.

Come into the trees;
Fall upon your knees;
All around, mages enchant,
Wrapping unseen strings
On their new plaything;
Now you stand and join the dance.

OctPoWriMo 24 - Magic is Real

Today's prompt is fantastical, and the suggested form is the Lento. I love fantasy and magic and all the trappings, and I thought about writing a short verse tale of elves and wizards, but my muse wasn't cooperating today. Instead, I wrote about the magic in all of us.

Magic is Real

Imagine that magic is real;
Within each of us it is found:
Beginning with marvelous joy
Wherein love can always abound.

Do you see the fantastic way
You have the power for good?
Few understand their own strength;
True now you know that you could.

Photo by Morgan Dragonwillow

OctPoWriMo 25 - Unseen yet Alive

Today's prompt is magic, and one of my favourite poems is Leonard Cohen's "God is Alive, Magic is Afoot,' which reminds me of the blitz form with some variations. So I wrote a blitz poem inspired by it.

Unseen yet Alive

Magic is alive

Magic is believing

Believing in the unseen

Believing you can fly

Fly me to the moon

Fly, fly away

Away from all my problems

Away from all my troubles

Troubles follow me

Troubles help me see

See what is important

See the magic

Magic kingdom

Magic gathering

Gathering together

Gathering the hunt

Hunt for red October

Hunt the dragon

Dragon heart of fire

Dragon heart of flame

Flame that burns so brightly

Flame that lights the night

Night of wondrous beauty

Night of mist and shadows

Shadows reaching for me

Shadows flee the light

Light of wonder

Light of love

Love is all you need

Love is magic

Magic is afoot

Magic’s in the air

Air is all around us

Air, water, fire

Fire, water, earth

Fire, earth, water

Water falling softly

Water rolling waves

Waves of rolling billows

Wave goodbye

Goodbye to you

Goodbye to yesterday

Yesterday I heard the rain

Yesterday I knew the song

Song of love

Song of magic

Magic is alive

Magic is afoot

Afoot…

Alive...

Dust it Off Bloghop - Excerpt

Dust it Off Bloghop Day 2: Post your favorite excerpt from Ol' Shelvy. 300-350 word limit.


For day 1, click here.


This excerpt is only 221 words. I've always loved this scene; it's the second scene of Chapter 1. Here, Shua finds out who he really is and that he's not fully human.


~*~
A figure stood in the middle of the room. His hair was long and black and he wore a robe so white it glowed. Shua couldn't have guessed his age, although he was definitely not a child. He seemed old and young at the same time. "Shua," he said again. "Shua, my son."

"Who are you?" Shua whispered.

"My name is Arcanin."

Shua's eyes widened and he fell to his knees. "My Lord!"

Arcanin smiled and lifted the young man to his feet. "You know who I am." He sounded pleased.

"Of course! Merofin taught me of you and your Brothers. But I never thought I'd meet you!"

"This is not our first meeting, Shua," Arcanin said.

"What?"

"You were very young and cannot remember." Arcanin's blue eyes took on a faraway look and he smiled fondly. "I remember you were a very curious child, always exploring." He focused on the young man's face. "Shua, what do you remember of your childhood?"

"Very little," he admitted. "There was a woman who smelled like flowers - but I don't remember what she looked like."

"Your mother, Sha'Nya," Arcanin said quietly. "She was beautiful."

Shua was quiet for a moment. Then he asked, "And my father? I remember nothing of him."

The Guardian put his hand on Shua's shoulder. "I am your father."

A Child of Two Worlds

It's time for Round Three of the 50 First Lines Challenge.There were three winners of Round 2, and we are to pick one paragraph of those three and write a summary in ten sentences or less of what the story is about. I picked paragraph 2 by 4am Writer:


Nobody wanted to claim the abandoned baby on the hill. Not a single hunter from the King’s clan and not one farmer from the Queen’s clan knelt in admission. That hill, with its concealed scorpion pits and live landmines, was supposed to keep the two clans divided as part of the War treaty. But the baby had all the markings, proof that the hill had been crossed. He had the silvery eyes of the Kings and the ruddy skin of the Queens. His secret will not last long. In time, the family birthmark will bloom. Announcing to which hunter and which farmer the baby truly belonged. And then the spooks will come after them.

And here is my entry:

This is a story about a child growing up in a world divided by war, a world that was torn apart by betrayal. His silvery eyes and ruddy skin clearly show that he is born of both clans, and no one will claim him and admit to a dalliance with the enemy. However, as he comes of age, a birthmark appears on his body, clearly showing which family from each clan he springs from—for everyone in each clan has these birthmarks—and his parents are revealed to be the son of the chief hunter and the daughter of the head farmer. This revelation causes some consternation, and leads to some argument, for both families want to claim the child as their own as he is now displaying talent in the magic of both royal families. The child, now really a young man, was raised by a farmer family who treated him as a servant, and he wants nothing to do with the war or with either royal family, but he wants out of his current situation, so he allows them to fight over him until he cannot take it anymore and he calls up the spooks and sets them on his families. Spooks cannot physically harm anyone, but they are horrifying in aspect, and the superstitious farmers and hunters are terrified of them, and no one has ever been able to call up or control the spooks, so when the young man does this, he immediately has their complete attention. He declares himself the Ruler of both clans, and no one argues.

Darkness and Death

Yeah, I know the post title is a little morbid; it's the title of today's piece, which isn't really all that morbid. I swear.
Someday, I'm going to make this into a novel. If I can just stop procrastinating...



"When darkness and death
Come upon us,
One who is two shall save us.
Eyes as the day,
Hair as the night;
No evil shall escape his might.
He bears the mark of one and two
Left and right upon his back..."

So it was written in the sacred writings of Lumilune. It was only a fragment, like most of the verses, yet it held great meaning. One day, great trouble will come upon the land. However, a saviour will rise.

Some didn't believe. There are always those who don't believe. Many people think the Guardians are only a story for children and magic is merely illusion. Although misguided, they are not so wrong - or so dangerous - as those who follow Tansa. The Tansans are best avoided. They only cause trouble.

Regardless of belief or disbelief, the prophecy was true . And when the Tansan armies of Saybol the Dark and his black-cloaked ally who called himself Death attacked the people of Lira, many who did not believe began to wonder...

Middle Earth Hallelujah

Like Red Tights, this is another imitation, this time of the poem/song Hallelujah by Leonard Cohen.

Middle Earth Hallelujah

I heard there was a Ring of gold
That Frodo bore and no Man could hold,
But you don't really care for stories, do you?
It goes like this, with Elf and Man,
Dwarf and Hobbit with a plan--
And ancient Wizard praying Hallelujah.
Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah.

Your will was strong, but you couldn't stand -
You slipped the Ring upon your hand;
Its beauty in the firelight overthrew you.
He leapt upon you, teeth and claws;
He took your finger in his jaws
And as he fell, you breathed a hallelujah.
Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah.

I did my best - I almost turned;
It wasn't by my will it burned.
I've told the truth; I didn't come to fool you.
And now, because it ended right,
I'll stand beneath the starry light
With nothing on my lips but hallelujah.
Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah.

-Esther Spurrill Jones

Weakness

Another fanfic I wrote based off of my favourite line that was in the movies but not in the books.

Weakness

You're the weak one. You've never known love or friendship. And I feel sorry for you. I feel sorry for you. I feel sorry for you.


The Dark wizard paced up and down the long room, his followers standing back against the ornate walls watching him. He could feel their fear, fear of him, but he ignored them. How dare the boy? How dare he feel sorry for him? It was ridiculous that the child he had orphaned would pity him. As if he were a pitiable figure! He was the greatest wizard alive, and he would soon prove it to all, muggle and wizard alike.


But how had the boy fought him off? No, it couldn't have been the boy; it had to have been a trick. It must have been Dumbledore. The old man was smarter than he looked; he always had been. There was no way a mere child could have forced the Dark Lord out of his head and caused such pain to the invader. At the memory of the agony that possession of the boy had caused him, Voldemort paused and flung out his wand hand at random, casting the cruciatus curse on one of his Death Eaters, inconsiderate of which one he struck. Momentarily distracted from his fury, he watched the masked man convulse in pain.


Call me weak, will you, Harry Potter? He fumed silently. I'll show you. Everything you've been through up until now will seem like a stroll through your puerile Honeydukes compared to what's coming. You will lose everything. And perhaps now was the time to get rid of a certain meddlesome headmaster as well. Voldemort smiled at his followers. Who needed friendship with such devoted slaves? "Lucius," the cold high voice said, "you have a son, don't you? A son who attends Hogwarts?"

Zankar's Betrayal

I woke up one morning with this scene in my head, and I just had to write it down. It feels like part of a much longer work, and someday I may write more, but as of now this is all I wrote.

Betrayal

Zankar's face was like a mask of death. He strode through the streets of the city, his long black robes billowing around him in the wind of his passing, and those who saw him were afraid. Most looked away, unwilling to meet his empty eyes, but some were caught in his dark gaze and stared after him, helpless to look elsewhere until he was out of sight. He had always been a strange individual, the King's Wizard, but since his wife had taken ill, he had become almost a hermit, spending hours a day in the Library searching for a curative for her malady.

Today, however, his destination was not the Library, but the Palace. The guards at the gates nodded to him as he passed, hardly noticing that he did not acknowledge them, that he stared straight ahead as if he saw nothing around him. They were used to the Wizard visiting the King.

The guards at the doors to the Council Chambers, however, did try to stop him. King Derrik had asked that no one interrupt the meeting with the Council today, so they stepped forward and were about to inform Zankar of this when the Wizard lifted his hand and the doors to the Chamber were thrown open. The guards, with only a second of hesitation, crossed their halberds, blocking the entrance. Another gesture from the Wizard, and they were flung apart and away from the door to crash against the walls on either side of the corridor. Not pausing to see them fall, Zankar entered the Chamber.

Derrik had risen from his chair when the doors opened. Now, seeing his friend and advisor enter so precipitously, he was momentarily speechless. In that moment, the Wizard passed through the doors and approached the table around which the King and his Councillors were seated. Coming to a halt, Zankar raised his right hand, palm up, before himself, almost as if he were offering or asking for something. The King opened his mouth to speak, to greet his Wizard and ask why he had burst into the meeting unannounced and in so ill-mannerly a fashion, but before Derrik could utter a word, Zankar closed his hand into a fist, and the King found himself unable to speak.

King Derrik gasped and clutched at his left arm with his right hand as he fell heavily back into his chair. He groaned as from a great pain. The Councillors watched in horror as their King's face turned grey, his whole body suddenly drenched with sweat. Those closest to him rushed toward Derrik, and those closer to the door turned on Zankar, reaching for the ceremonial daggers they wore in their belts. The Wizard lifted his left hand, palm forward, and all in the room but the King and Wizard were stopped instantly, in mid step, the expressions of shock, anger, outrage, and confusion frozen on their faces.

The guards from outside the door had now picked themselves up and returned to the Chamber door. Seeing that the Wizard was attacking the King and Councillors, they lowered their halberds and charged him. Zankar flicked the fingers of his left hand toward them without turning around. At once, they were as unable to move as were the Councillors. All watched in horror as the King's breathing became more and more laboured. Derrik's eyes never left Zankar's, and his lips moved as he tried to speak. Finally, he managed to whisper, “Why?” The Wizard did not respond, his gaze pitiless as he watched his King struggle to breathe. After what seemed an age to those watching helplessly, Derrik's gasps slowed, then stopped, and the King slumped in his chair, his unseeing eyes staring blankly at the Wizard who had been his friend.

Zankar turned and left the room. As soon as he was out of sight, those held motionless were free. As the Councillors rushed to check on the King, the guards raced after his killer. But no one ever saw the Wizard Zankar again.